


More Good Than Harm

by WampusRoar13



Series: More Good Than Harm [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Arya Stark & Sansa Stark Have a Good Relationship, BAMF Sansa Stark, F/M, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, M/M, Multi, Sansa Stark Deserves Better, Warg Sansa Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:40:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 73,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24293740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WampusRoar13/pseuds/WampusRoar13
Summary: Sansa Stark is thrown back in time to a couple days before the Royal family visits. With her knowledge and help from strange dreams that begin after she saves Bran from falling, the Red Wolf of Winterfell finds her rightful place in the world.
Relationships: Catelyn Tully Stark/Ned Stark, Elia Martell/Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Ned Stark & Sansa Stark, Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand, Renly Baratheon/Loras Tyrell/Margaery Tyrell, Sansa Stark/Aegon VI Targaryen, Ysilla Royce/Robb Stark
Series: More Good Than Harm [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024569
Comments: 128
Kudos: 596





	1. Chapter 1

One moment there was nothing but calamity. Her dead family was beginning to rise and mothers were clinging to their children as they tried to face the end bravely. The roar of war outside the crypts was vicious, making the Battle for Blackwater seem like the Tourney of the Hand.

Sansa had been standing before her father's final resting place, determined to face her end and finally set right the many mistakes of her girlhood in some fashion, when everything went black. Her headless father did not rise to see justice done for one last time and punish her for her errors, although the Lady of Winterfell could not determine what transpired from one moment to the next. It was simply chaos and then nothing.

Nothing but herself.

Slowly she forced her eyes open as sensation returned. Instead of black, Sansa was greeted by the shimmering silver curtains of her childhood. Blinking did not change the delicately alternating pattern of weirwood leaves and winter roses that were stitched all over them very carefully by her own hand. And a deep shudder passed through her body.

There was no grace in the way that she rushed to sit up, unable to believe the soft bed and familiar, even softer, linens on which she found herself. Looking out the window, even through the curtains, it was obviously before dawn. The sky was pale blue in the early morning, but the sun had not yet peaked.

Looking around her old room at Winterfell, Sansa was surprised further. It was transformed back to her childhood set up, back to her first room after being allowed to move away from Arya. What sort of illusion was this?

Standing, her legs did not feel like her own. After a moment it registered that there was also an incredible lack of pain throughout her. Whatever this magic was, it wasn't bad, for such to be the case.

Sansa grabbed a candle from her nightstand and quickly looked around, wondering if she'd become lost in a dream. Or was this a memory? It must be a memory, as everything was too perfect. 

Even the torn practice stitches flung on her trunk from Arya becoming disgruntled and upset, three days before Robert Baratheon visited Winterfell, jogged her memory. Sansa knew she'd been so very foolish in her youth, refusing to see her sister's perspective as the younger girl struggled to find herself in her older perfect sister's shadow. If only she could tell her younger self how imperfect and foolish she was, there was so much the older woman would have changed, particularly with her sister.

With a sad smile, Sansa ran a hand over the stitching lovingly, then turned toward her looking glass on the wall. Her candle dropped to the floor, wax splattering across the floor, and flame swept out by the fall. A small hand flew to her face, before dropping down to her breasts.

She was a girl again. A maiden. How?

Pinching herself to the point of bruising resulted in no change. This seemed to be no apparition then. She was, for however long, younger.

Slowly the thoughts came back to Sansa. If I could only go back… There was so much to do!

Her father, mother, Robb… Everyone was alive! She could see them!

Telling the truth was out of the question, of course. They would think she'd gone mad and that would help no one. She had to keep her own head, remember her lessons, remember as much as she could.

If she was right about the date, then the King would be here in two days. She had to prioritize what she could change immediately and what she couldn't. Thinking in her room was suffocating though.

Turning to open her wardrobe was a massive disappointment. Everything inside screamed of southern styles and frivolity… In truth it was perhaps not everything, but something very close to it.

Most of the lot was thrown onto her bed to be mended, altered, or otherwise donated if Sansa's talents couldn't save them. That left only about a quarter of her wardrobe to choose from. It would be alright though, as she recalled Catelyn Stark had driven herself right up the walls of Winterfell, almost taking everyone else with her, the week before they'd received the royal family, and her children had largely been left to their own devices.

This could be her project while she planned over the next couple of days.

She pulled out a pale silver dress made from imported materials from Essos that would shine like fish scales in the light, which Sansa had stitched her family's white direwolf sigil into the torso, along with having white wolves chasing each other at the bottom of the skirt and the sleeves. The sleeves came to a point overtop her hands and the dress, overall, was very grown up. It had been her last project before the announcement of the royal visit, she’d refused to wear it unless the occasion was perfect… She'd wound up outgrowing it and having no more of the material to alter the unique silver fabric in King's Landing.

While the reality of it was that she was once more a girl of ten and four, the Red Wolf of Winterfell felt much older. Given that she was still herself and needed her family to take her seriously, Sansa committed herself to causing a shake up for the better. Who ever and why they gave her this chance was a mystery, but she would not squander it.

She donned a simple braid around her cranium to hold the rest back and left the auburn curls to trickle freely downward.

Moving slowly toward the godswood was as ancient and familiar a ritual as if she'd been doing it for a thousand years. Winterfell was just waking up, with her managing to be ready before any of her family, and Sansa was overwhelmed. The people, the jovial greetings, the easy revelry; everyone who had made up her childhood was safe and happy.

It wasn't until she collapsed in front of the heart tree that the weight of this opportunity caught up with her and Sansa wept. She couldn't save everyone. The game didn't work that way, never would she be able to predict everyone or everything. Everyone meets the stranger.

But they didn't have to succumb to there only being the stranger.

Westeros could battle the Night King, together, but it had to be acknowledged that such a time was a long way off. More immediate threats had to be settled first. Sansa started to prioritize.

Cersei and Joffrey could never be allowed to get their mad, cruel, vicious hands on the throne.

She had been just as disappointed in Robert Baratheon as her siblings, after spending years at their father’s feet hearing about the legend. But, for now, they were much better off keeping him alive to avoid the War of the Five Kings. Once Cersei’s treason had been revealed and the snake was out of power, then a decision could be made about the King.

Who else was she going to put on the throne though?

Margery was already eighteen and Sansa knew that she had been a beloved Queen. If she could get rid of Cersei, then Robert would have to remarry to secure an heir. The Rose of Highgarden would be an excellent choice.

The Crown was already in massive debt. If her father was still named Hand, and Sansa had little faith that there was anyway around that, then securing an alliance with the second richest kingdom in Westeros, after the Lannister’s treachery, would be smart. Her friend would be a good Queen and secure the Baratheon legacy.

Of course, that meant she had to get rid of Cersei and quickly. The woman could not be given the opportunity to know that Sansa was a threat. At least there was no doubt about her perfect opportunity.

The day that Bran fell was seared into her mind forever. Knowing what Jaime and Cersei were going to be doing in the tower, all she had to do was find a way to get the King there. Possibly with her father, or mother, but certainly adults who could substantiate what had been occurring between the twins. Sansa would not allow Bran to be pushed, or for him to become the Three Eyed Raven, not if she could stop it.

That would leave Myrcella and Tommen at Robert’s mercy, however. The same man that smiled at the deaths of Rhaegar Targaryen’s wife and children. She would have to cultivate a relationship with Tyrion; he’d be able to get the smaller children out and make a run for their lives. Preparations would have to be made to ensure the supplies and horses were ready for them to ride hard for the Rock and Tywin Lannister’s protection.

The Great Lion would do everything that he could to save his family. For the love that she had seen between Brienne and Jaime, Sansa wondered if there was a way to save him. Cersei was beyond redemption, but her brother… She would do all that she could for the Golden Lion out of respect for her sworn shield.

As the wind picked up something scraped against Sansa’s hand and she looked down to realize that Arya’s practice stitches were still clutched there, the needle attached. Pulling the thread gently from the white cloth, before completing the stitching quickly and proficiently, Sansa sat the practice work on the nearest bolder. So much of what she had to accomplish was based on people and she needed to face her past to set anything to rights.

A small bark pulled her attention toward the west and the part of the woods that was still darkest despite sunrise being minutes away.

“Lady!”

Impossible as it was, Sansa got the sense that her approaching direwolf knew everything that had happened. She threw her arms around her beautiful girl’s neck and sobbed into her fur. A rough tongue darted out to lick at her shoulder in an attempt at comfort, until there were no tears left in her body to shed.

Pulling away, the former Lady of Winterfell placed her forehead against her direwolf’s and promised, “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

They settled back into place facing the ancient weirwood tree’s laughing face. Lady sat politely on her haunches next to Sansa, ever the good girl and seemingly aware of the reverence of this place. The time travelling Stark stared up at the face and said only one prayer aloud to the old gods, “Help me do more good than harm.”

The rest of her time was spent thinking. Plotting was, at this stage, entirely speculative. She had to keep her father from agreeing to the betrothal between herself and Joffrey, but Sansa didn't expect that to be too hard. Given how quickly Ned Stark had become speculative of the bastard, it wouldn’t be too hard to plant the seeds of doubt into her father’s head early.

Jon Arryn was dead at the hand of his wife and Peter Baelish. If she could get Cersei caught with Jaime, then there would be no question about Joffrey’s bastardy and, perhaps, she could get her father to research who would have helped the woman. It was risky to engage with Littlefinger in any capacity, but he also wasn’t an obstacle which she could ever avoid.

Her father wouldn’t be executed and Robb would never leave the North undefended. Perhaps it was even a good idea to bring Theon to King’s Landing as well. He’d never be tempted to betray the North and she could start building a genuine relationship with him.

Not just him though. Jon couldn’t be allowed to join the Night’s Watch. Father had originally planned to take her, Arya, and Bran to King’s Landing, with the youngest going to meet the Blackfish to squire under him, if he hadn’t fallen. That was something she would see through this time around, as well as bringing Jon with them, rather than leaving him to Catelyn Stark’s cruelties. She’d have to apologize to him once more and use this royal visit to build up their relationship, rather than fawning over Joffrey.

It would be a much better trade off.

Sam Tarly would still be at the Wall. He would still let the Wildlings through and by that point, Sansa would hopefully have Baelish neutralized and have made a decision about King Robert. She was putting quite a lot on the young man from the Reach, but he was much stronger than he gave himself credit for.

Getting rid of Cersei would limit Baelish, as would keeping Ned Stark alive, and it should push him toward fulfilling his marriage agreement with Aunt Lysa. If that happened, Sansa would need to be rid of him before he could establish himself in the Vale with Robin and the boy's regent mother. That might work, making Peter believe her a vapid girl and then being rid of him on his way to her family.

A branch snapping under foot was what drew her and Lady's attentions back toward the main path to the heart tree. It was dawn, the sun just pulling over the horizon, so the approach should not have been a surprise. Ned Stark had started his days here since she was a babe, consistently except for the Iron Rebellion.

Still, her eyes went wide with shock as she took him in. The Warden of the North stood tall and stoic, practical and put together, in his wolf cloak and Ice strapped to his side. His grey eyes were ever gentle as they took in her surprise.

So was his smile, "It's alright, Sansa. You're a Stark of the North. These are your gods too."

It struck her that he thought her embarrassed to be caught praying to the old gods. The flush that lit her face was excitement at seeing him alive and whole, but it fit her purposes to let him think himself correct. Glancing down at the black pool, when Sansa returned her gaze to her father, the beaming smile that she offered him was as genuine as it was sheepish.

"Mother would feel differently."

Ned Stark hummed as he settled onto a knee next to his oldest daughter. Sansa had always been the child that he'd struggled to relate to most, largely leaving her to Cat's care. But here, in Winterfell's godswood, before the laughing face of the old gods, it felt easy to talk to his beautiful daughter for the first time.

"Your mother just wants what she thinks is best for you," He sought to gently remind her, "But, where ever you go, whatever you face, you'll carry the voice of the old gods in your heart and the blood of the first men in your veins."

They were silent in their prayers for some time. In her head the prayer she'd offered aloud became a chant as she kneeled next to her father in the dirt, knowing that there was no going back. She was now in the great game.

And the great game was terrifying.

He needed to check on Cat's plans and make sure that all of his paperwork was complete for the entirety of the royal visit, but that could wait a bit. Sansa had never wandered far from his wife's Sept and given the early morning reports he'd gotten that the young maiden hurried here before daybreak, Ned thought himself able to take a hint. A little father and daughter time seemed on the docket before Winterfell became chaotic beyond all reason.

"Septa Mordane spotted you coming out this morning; she said you looked distressed."

Her legs were numb where she had not moved since her initial collapse and Sansa, graceful as a newborn deer, twisted around so that she could sit on her rump, back to the heart tree, and facing the hot springs, as blood flooded back to her legs. Sitting side by side, the maiden offered her father a tight smile, "I had a horrible night terror… I suppose I'm getting too old for such things."

"Fear has no age limit, Sweet Wolf," Ned smiled at her, "What happened?"

Sansa couldn't stop from beaming at the nickname, as it was her first new title of this chance, though she quickly sobered, "I… I trusted the wrong people and my family suffered for it."

The admission earned her another hum, and they descended into silence for a few moments, but finally her father moved to console her, "No one escapes life without regrets, Sansa. You will be supported by your family even when you fail and you'll have to offer them that same grace."

He didn't know about her fault in his previous death, or her anger at Robb for not trading Jaime for her, or the disappointment in her mother for not making her brother marry better. Ned Stark couldn't know of these struggles that she was having, but his words soothed her regardless. He wasn't angry at her, this version of her father, and she needed to set a new president with him.

"Father…"

"Hmm?"

"I want to ask you something before the heart tree and, if you answer me honestly, I will never bring it up again, should you ask me not to."

"You can ask me anything, Sansa. We can't lie before a weirwood tree."

Wringing her hands where they were locked around her bent knees, the maiden summoned every bit of the conviction that forged her into the Red Wolf, and looked into her father's eyes, "When Aunt Lyanna left with Prince Rhaegar and had Jon…"

Ned gasped, grey eyes going wide and mouth held agape.

Sansa forged on unwavering, "Did she love him? Or did he force himself upon her?"

It was summer in Winterfell, so not even snow shrikes could fill the silence that hung around them. The Lord of Winterfell stared at his daughter and knew that there would be no dissuading her. He didn't know how or when Sansa had figured out his great deception, but his daughter knew who Jon's parents were.

Shortly his heart began to slow as he realized that she wasn't upset or hysterical, "Sansa, you can never…"

"I would never endanger my brother," The maiden informed him curtly and at his raised brow she clarified, "He will always be a wolf and my brother." Tilting her head, Sansa studied the Warden of the North, "You should tell him, but I won't push you. I know who is two days away… I was just curious."

Ned sighed, happy to stretch his legs out and take Lady's head into his lap, as Sansa's direwolf sensed the tension, "They loved each other. She, Prince Rhaegar, and Princess Elia."

The mention of the Dornish princess got his daughter's attention. Well aware of how Lady got her name, the child's surprise pulled a chuckle from deep within him, "Oh yes, dear one, Elia was not scorned by her husband for your aunt. In fact, she was the one to first take interest in the shewolf. Hence why Jon was born in Dorne."

It made so much sense! Sansa wanted to slap herself for not putting it together sooner. Dorne as a whole was known and marked for its dalliances and leniencies in the bedroom, as was the Targaryen family. That was why Dorne had always been willing to put the Dragons back on the Iron Throne! 

She nodded, "So, at Harrenhal…"

"It was Elia who first took an interest in my sister," Ned huffed, "I wouldn't find out until I read the letters between them, after my sister's death, but it must have been something; the Crown Prince ordered to name another woman his Queen of Love and Beauty by his lady wife."

Sansa couldn't stop a giggle from escaping her, but their reality soon returned, "Why didn't she tell her family? Her pack?"

"My father was… She tried after they went to Dorne to get married, but my father claimed her hand was forced and sided with Robert. I did too, thinking I was protecting her."

Knowing how traditional the North was as a whole, Sansa knew her aunt had felt trapped. She watched the steam rise up from the hot springs for a moment, "Arya would have loved her."

"And you, Elia," Ned felt lighter with the confession.

"Do you resent Mother?" When he looked at her surprised, Sansa shrugged, "You never did anything wrong and neither did Jon. Why not tell her?"

"I… There are people in her life that can't be trusted. Not with Jon's life. He's become my son, even if I didn't give him wolf blood," Ned caught her Tully blue eyes once more, "Sansa, you cannot breathe a word of this. Not unless I tell you otherwise."

Relief flooded Sansa as she realized that he had known Baelish as a worm. She would probably never know why the version of her father she knew threw his lot in with the man against Cersei, but the name was all but written on his lips, though he didn't say it. And, knowing what happened between Littlefinger and Brandon Stark, how could he not know?

Nodding her assent, the scarlet girl she appeared to be still demanded, "Will you speak with Jon?"

It couldn't be put off forever. Ned knew that even if he didn't like it, "After the royal family visits."

That would get complicated, but she would work it out.

"Thank you for talking to me about this, Father."

Ned leaned over to kiss her forehead, "It seems only yesterday you were just a little girl, and before me sits a woman."

Sansa smiled, knowing that he hadn't a clue. A memory floated back to her, of her mother and Septa Mordane talking to her about betrothals seriously for the first time. It had only been a few weeks since that discussion in this time frame.

"Mother said something similar. Does that mean you're in a hurry to be rid of me?"

It was said with a bit of joviality, but Ned still heard an undercurrent of worry, "Of course not, Sweet Wolf! You have not even flowered yet."

Sansa beamed at him for this dismissal.

"You have so long before there is even a need for such talks," The Lord of Winterfell studied his daughter, who had so recently been obsessed with stories and fantasy. He got the distinct impression that something had changed, "What about you, Sansa? Has your realization about your aunt turned you away from marriage?"

The question surprised her, but it shouldn't have. Of course this conversation would seem all too easily connected to her father, given the girl she'd been only yesterday to him. At the same time, Sansa had been turned from the marriage bed long before Jon revealed his parentage, but she couldn't exactly explain her history.

And the truth of the matter was that she still wanted for a husband and children. But the bitter reminder to kill Ramsay Snow quickly, before he could do anymore damage to an unsuspecting world was placed high on her list, as she contemplated how to answer her father's question. He gave her the answer himself, though perhaps not in this lifetime.

"I know I will marry for duty, but I find that my husband's appearance and status means little," She grinned up at her father, "I just hope for a bit of Mother's luck in marrying someone brave, and gentle, and strong."

Ned flushed, "You flatter me daughter."

Noise from the main path pulled both of their attentions toward Winterfell proper. Lady stood from her spot with the Warden of the North, tail wagging wide as she waited. Rustling in the leaves and approaching voices were the only warning before Nymeria came bounding out of the clearing, with a young Arya clinging to her fur.

"There you are! Mother won't let us eat until you two come back!!"

Sansa beamed at her sister, "Well, we can't have the two of you wasting away. Can we, Nymeria?"

The large wolf offered a quick head shake, as Arya slid off her looking confused at the lack of insult despite Sansa sounding playful. The two direwolves took off to play, sisters in a way that only inspired the older Stark sister to bridge this gap with Arya. One way or another.

"What are you doing?" Arya demanded, "Dreaming of your Golden Prince, Sansa? He's only two days away now."

"Hardly, he's probably a right prat," Sansa dismissed where only her father and sister could hear, though she surprised them both.

Catelyn Stark came into the clearing with baby Rickon on her hip and Bran on her other hand. She was followed by Robb and Theon, who were playing with practice swords already, and a dour looking Jon. The sight was enough to make Sansa want to weep.

Grey Wind, Ghost, and Shaggy stayed near to their Stark, while Summer took off to play with her sisters. The three shewolves looked so happy and Sansa hoped to keep them that way. She would protect this with all that she was.

"Arya, I have told you to leave you sister be," Cat reminded, "And get off Nymeria. You are not allowed your direwolf or to attend Robb's training until you put effort into your stitches."

"Oh," Sansa cut off the younger Stark daughter's almost certainly smart reply as she was being helped to her feet by her father, "Yes, Arya came back to my room last night. I helped her."

She'd never seen her sister so confused as when Sansa rushed over to the stitching on a nearby rock and handed it over, "You were so tired, you left it in my room. Please don't make a habit of that."

Stark grey eyes didn't waver from her Tully blue as Catelyn took the practice stitches to inspect them. As their mother hummed over the work, Sansa sent her sister a wink, before promptly turning to take baby Rickon from her mother. She placed kisses all over his face, earning a giggle, before his natural rambunctiousness led to him wandering after the female wolves, Shaggy following dutifully.

"Well, it's nice to know that you aren't completely beyond help," Cat told her youngest, "You may attend Robb's training after we break our fast."

The excited gasp and grin that Arya offered her was worth the chance at the lie going wrong.

"Well, you're in a good mood for having helped her all night!" Robb jested to his younger sister.

Sansa smiled at him, though she was unable to find a good response. Her father's words were true and she wanted to give her brother grace; he'd been a boy thrust into kingship and war. At the same time, never again could he be her infallible knight in shining armor.

"She's just killing time," Theon butted in with a sneer, "Hoping her favorite Baratheon will show up!"

Though her father called them off and got the party moving back out of the godswood, the words jogged Sansa's memory. She had been teased relentlessly by her brothers before the King's arrival here. Scratching through the dredged up memories, trying to recall as many details as she could, the oldest Stark daughter finally recalled her father's explanation that he'd given on the way to King's Landing.

When she'd been a tot, younger than she could actually remember, apparently Robert Baratheon had sent his youngest brother to learn from her father. He made Renly the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands at an unbearably young age, after all. Sansa had apparently been in love with Renly, as much as any child had that capacity, and he'd taken to her like the little sister that Ned Stark in her own time had claimed the youngest Baratheon always wanted.

Her father only told her in case Sansa ran into the youngest Baratheon brother, not wanting her to be surprised if he was familiar with her. They hadn't ever run into each other, Sansa wasn't sure why that was, but she could guess. He was protecting the young girl she was from his not so secret relationship with Loras Tyrell.

It struck her that, while the great family of the Reach was ambitious, they were also loyal and loved one another. In her earlier musings, she'd developed a plan for the North, Riverlands, and Vale by protecting her parents and Bran. But, there were other kingdoms and smallfolk within each who needed consideration.

Robert remaining on the throne for now kept Renly from abandoning the Stormlands to take the throne. His relationship that was well regarded by the Tyrells would also give her an in to the family's plots, if she was accepted. She just had to push for him to recognize her and extend his connections to her.

"Lord Renly was an exceptional big brother," Sansa told them, not even thinking as she fell onto Jon's arm out of habit, "You're only jealous at how easily you three were replaced."

It was a small miracle that, with Bran, Rickon, and the wolves taking off up ahead of them, her parents didn't see what she was doing. Ned Stark hollered back his disbelief that she remembered Renly, but didn't turn his attention from helping his wife wrangle their beasts of burden, human and wolf alike. At the same time Arya was ribbing Robb and Theon for Sansa, the older Stark daughter was pretty sure her sister was trying to show gratitude.

Jon tensed under her arm like she'd struck him, though he started moving at the back of their troop like he always did. His trudge forward was like a hostage, however, and Sansa grimaced, "I suppose I am that awful. I'll let go, if you'd rather I not touch you."

He started at her like she had sprouted all three of the heads on his family's sigil, though he didn't know it, "I just don't think Lady Stark would approve."

"You're my brother, so she'll get over it," Sansa shrugged, "I'm sorry, for every time I acted any other way. I don't know what I'd… Please forgive me."

There was so much that she wanted to tell him and she couldn't. Tears bubbled to the surface once more, but Sansa fought them back. She would admit to wanting her over protective big brother back, despite the knowledge that he'd bent the knee like a fool.

"Sansa, no," The broody Stark, and Sansa was allowed to speculate for the first time if that was a quality that he actually got from Rhaegar, seemed to realize how serious she was, "I'm not some huge joy, irritating your mother with my existence and skulking around while all of you play. I… There's nothing to forgive."

The familiarity charmed her, "Forgive me!"

"Alright," Jon laughed at her demand, her small stature reminding him of an angry kitten, "Alright, I forgive you."

It wasn't enough, but it was a start. She smiled at him and kissed his cheek, unsurprised when Arya wound her way back to them after becoming bored with Robb and Theon. As her sister jumped onto Jon's waiting other arm, she extracted herself, and sped up to join the pair of best friends.

Robb was a little put out when Sansa took to Theon instead of him. His sister always hung on him, making him feel ever like the gallant, chivalrous knight of legend, no matter how often their father insisted that they had no need for such titles in the North. But, he'd overheard Septa Mordane telling their mother that Sansa appeared to have had a long night, prompting their visit to the godswood.

He'd wait to see if she bounced back after a decent night's sleep.

"What about you, Sea Wolf? Did you sleep well?"

Theon opened and closed his mouth a time or two, surprised, before managing to get out, "Sea Wolf?"

"No good?" Sansa asked nonchalantly, "No worries, I'll think of something."

"No, no, I like Sea Wolf just fine!" Theon insisted, "I was just surprised. I slept well, my lady."

"I slept well too, Sansa."

She didn't dignify that with a response, "Oh no, Sea Wolf, I think your best friend is jealous."

Theon threw his head back and laughed, "Finally someone else sees it! I've been saying for years that your brother can't stand my good looks and easy charm."

"Think you're funny, do you?" Robb demanded, "Mother! Theon just made a pass as Sansa!"

Catelyn Stark spun around where she was leading the youngest children out of the iron gate ahead of them. Theon froze under her hand and her mother's glare, but Sansa didn't miss a step. She subtlety rubbed his arm in encouragement, forcing the ward to keep in step with her.

"Don't you dare say such a vile lie, Robb!" Sansa did see genuine hurt flash across his face at her quick call out, but she continued, “Theon would do no such thing.”

Lady Stark quickly turned to scold her first child and the ward visibly relaxed under hand. Stepping into the sunlight of early morn, beyond the first row of trees leading into the Godswood and next to the iron gate, Sansa startled slightly when her mother gasped. She only relaxed when the woman exclaimed, "You're wearing it!"

Everyone turned and found her as the center of attention.

Remembering her dress and allowing herself to remember the joy of the age she's currently embodied for a moment, Sansa stepped away from Theon and gave a twirl, beaming, "Yes, today just felt perfect."

Catelyn embraced her exuberantly, offering many compliments as everyone else joined in. Sansa couldn't stay the moment wasn't somewhat cheapened by the knowledge that she had, but it was also a sensation more memorable for knowing how she once lost this chance. Her family was back and it would be as much a crime to not enjoy them, as to not try and make things better.

"Forgive me, little one," Ned commented as they started moving, "I should have noticed."

"It's quite alright, Father. I forgot myself for a moment."

"Must have been some night terror," Arya muttered, "You've been worried over that rag like it's your golden prince!"

Even as their mother turned to scold her youngest daughter, Sansa just chuckled, "That it was. Absolutely life changing."

Breaking their fast was a quick affair. Catelyn fussed over her a bit at the beginning but Sansa assured her mother that her start was receding and offered a peace offering to Robb in the form of her blueberry tart, his favorite. Her big brother beamed at her, all forgiven, and she proclaimed her project to alter many of her dresses over the coming days to fashion them more like her current garb.

"Unless, of course, you require assistance, Mother."

"No, no," Catelyn dismissed, as Sansa expected she would, "That sounds like a lovely use of your time, dear." Her attention turned to the others at large, "Maester Luwin and Septa Mordane are helping me in the coming days, so your lessons are suspended. You will all need to find such appropriate ways to fill your time."

The lot grinned at each other and Sansa knew where to find all of them for the next few days. The training yard. Amid her plotting, she'd have to sneak them some treats less they kill over from exhaustion.

The rest of that day was spent plotting and stitching. Sansa realized that she would need to keep pressing into her father's confidence, but after their earlier conversation that wouldn't be difficult. There was a small hiccup when all of her siblings came barreling into her room, ripe from the training yard, to demand what had happened to her. Describing some of her experiences, particularly what had befallen her family, as a dream wound up being a great way to unburden herself and earn their confidence.

Robb swore to never endangering the North, or his duty, and Theon to never betraying the Starks. It wasn't a sure fix by any means, but it was a warning placed in their heads. Jon scoffed at taking the black, particularly when Arya started crying and swore that, if she had to marry, he'd always have a place with her; that also gave Sansa the opportunity to make the same vow. Bran and Rickon were more difficult, but they promised to try and be careful and not get hurt. That was the best she'd get with their age and what she could disclose.

"What happened to me?" Arya demanded.

"You were separated from us and forced to stop being a wolf."

"Never! I'll always be a wolf!"

"I hope so," Sansa had whispered to her sister, gazing down at the awful layered with ruffles pink monstrosity in her lap. With a grin she held it up for her sister's inspection, "I don't think even my talents can save this one. Judgement?"

"Agreed!" Arya shook her head, "That's awful, Sans. What were you thinking?"

"Clearly I was not," She laughed with all the others, before deciding that the stripped silk of the unsalvageable dress would make wonderful cloth for her moonblood. 

That was when it had also reminded her that she hadn't flowered yet. Logically, Sansa had known that, but the thought made it more vivid. When the event occurred, she would have to see where they were and assess if it was worth hiding. If Cersei was gone and Robert remarried, then there might be no need.

Still, that had been how Lady Stark found them. All seven children sequestered in Sansa's room, the younger boys playing with wooden swords, and the older playing cyvasse. The real shock had been Arya helping her sister with her work willingly, even if she was only pulling apart the gaudy adornments from her oldest daughter's dresses that had been deemed too much.

She'd run the lot out to wash before the evening meal and again the next night, upon finding them in the same place.

Sansa wound up finishing her wardrobe around midday the day before the royal party arrived, but she'd been anxious and needed more to do. She wound up making Jon a cloak like their father's, with white fur to match Ghost, though she couldn't give it to him yet. 

Hiding it away, Sansa rummaged through some of Bran's old things. From the boy of ten's old trousers, and remembering Arya's measurements from this age, she wound up forging five more feminine garments for her sister. 

Making trousers more feminine had been something easily done from her previous life. Then, from a few of her unsalvageable dresses that managed to be more muted colors, Sansa forged the long tunics her sister had come to prefer, in her current size. Unlike dresses these only flared behind her from the waist and ended in the space between her calf and ankle, rather than below the extremity.

It might have been unfair that her father allowed Arya more leeway because of sentiment concerning his sister, but Sansa also gave him grace. She was the first born, there were always going to be more expectations on her in their world, just like Robb. That wasn't her sister's fault.

And that was how, as the royal precession arrived, Arya wound up standing next to her in a dark grey dress-tunic, with white wolves around the hemline and sleeves, and trousers made for her, along with her wolf cloak. Sansa was back in her lovely dress from two days prior, ecstatic that this was not the first time she’d worn the garment, and having specifically told her sister to avoid Joffrey at all costs. She was finding that dreams were wonderful ways of proclaiming that she had bad feelings about something.

Of course, it wasn’t fool proof. Arya was always unpredictable and she couldn’t ensure her sister’s cooperation. Still, Sansa kept her eyes on the King alone other than her curtsies to the Queen and her bastard Prince. As her father led Robert into the crypts and her mother led Cersei to their rooms where the Queen could rest, Joffrey ever under his mother’s thumb, the sisters finally shared a look.

Prat was the mutual judgement.

Hopefully her younger sister wouldn’t need to know the half of it.

Everything went much the same, except her father didn’t agree to a betrothal between her and Joffrey. Ned Stark told the King that there would be time and that he’d not make a betrothal for her until after she flowered, not after his sister had been so ill used at such a young age. Sansa knew that it was the appeal to Lyanna that saved her from the King, who was stuck in the past, and knowing what she did now, the Red Wolf realized her father did too.

Ned Stark had known so much more than he let on before his death.

Sansa could see that now. Her father hadn’t been unaware of Robert’s flaws, as a matter of fact as she was given this chance to reobserve the pair, she saw that Ned Stark was constantly trying to curb the King’s baser characteristics. That had been the job of Jon Arryn for decades as Hand of the King and, at least in terms of Robert Baratheon, seemed to be the primary function of the role.

There was no shame in her father struggling with a role that he’d just been learning.

When Daenerys had come to Winterfell, she and Varys had spoken about her father briefly. Although the eunuch had never said that he was worried about the Dragon Queen’s state of mind, it had been obvious to someone paying attention, and Sansa knew that he was another powerful ally she’d have to forge a relationship with. He hadn’t been wrong about her father either; his mercy for the children had killed Ned Stark.

And she couldn’t make the same mistake.

The night before Bran was originally pushed from the tower, Sansa worried her thumbnail from her place by the window of her solitary bedroom. Or it would have been if Arya hadn’t, somehow, made her way back to sleeping in the eldest Stark daughter’s room in the last fortnight. With her sister snoring in her bed, she ran through her plan once more, because she had to try.

Her relationship with Tyrion had bloomed beautifully without Sansa trying to live in Cersei’s shadow. He seemed increasingly fond of her intelligence as she’d planted seeds in his mind about the ‘why’ of the wall’s creation, citing her idea that the original tale of the Night King was, perhaps, a twisted tale of madness induced by an illness from beyond Westeros, as far more plausible then the dead rising. While she knew it wasn’t true, finding him reading tales about wights in the library had been rewarding.

He was also incredibly fond of Jon, which she’d learned in her original time happened the first time around as well. It made sense, as they were both outcasts. Cersei’s treatment of her youngest brother was increasingly similar to the way that Sansa observed her mother treating Jon and it made her stomach roll.

But there was no going to the wall. She had already talked her father into bringing Jon to King’s Landing, citing both her own mother and the huge city as a good reason to bring him, as their sworn shield. Arya was thrilled.

Tyrion had to stay here as she needed him to get Myrcella and Tommen away. Mercy may have been the reason that her father was killed, but she had to try for those innocent little children. They were good, unlike Joffrey.

The horses were ready to run, in a dilapidated stable that she’d paid off a young stable hand to take care of. Packs with enough food and supplies to get them to Casterly Rock were hidden in the stall beside the horses. If she could convince him to run, they could make it to Tywin Lannister’s protections.

Dawn came and she was still thinking. Arya didn't bother to ask if she slept, already knowing the answer, and helped her dress instead of a maid. When the younger girl slipped her a honey covered bun, Sansa smiled at the gesture and it managed to be the one thing she managed to eat that morning.

Sansa was seated with Joffrey on her other side and hated having to play to courtesy, but she knew that drawing attention by being rude would only make things worse. Seating tended to change a bit everyday, as breaking their fast was largely predicated on who arrived and in what order. The previous night must have been a slow night on wine, as the King was up and sitting on his son’s other side, next to her father.

It barely registered what the Warden of the North was discussing, until she heard her name.

“How is Renly doing as Master of Laws?” Ned Stark asked, “Sansa remembers him fondly from his time here learning at Winterfell.”

“He’s done well,” Robert all but dismissed, “Keeps those vultures in the Sept of Baelor where they belong!”

Further down the table, Robb leaning forward to see around their mother, “Sansa will love to see her favorite Baratheon when she arrives in King’s Landing!”

Sansa smiled at the playful teasing, unthinking as she leaned forward to jest with Robb, the commentary on her relationship with Renly Baratheon only becoming more prominent as she played up remembering him. It was the first time the jest had taken place in front of Joffrey, however, and the surprise on her face when he slammed his fist on the table and stood to tower over her was real.

She might have exaggerated her start, even reaching back to guard Arya, as he yelled; the second part was truly to keep her sister from getting involved.

“So that’s it then! The wolf bitch prefers sword swallowers to princes!” Joffrey shouted, face purple, “She’s probably never even seen a true stag to…”

Though his vile mouth would have kept going, it was stopped by the huge fist of the King slamming onto the table, and Robert sailing up to his full height to seize him by the arm, “Enough! Confine my son to his room, he is clearly unwell!”

While her mother came rushing over to check on her, as Cersei rushed to follow Joffrey from the room, Sansa fought to keep a smile off her face. The incident made her happy and rid her of the Prince for a day. Of course, she hoped that the changes she’d already made wouldn’t stop her from disposing of the Queen today, or saving her brother.

Bran wasn’t going to fall. He wasn’t. But, after breaking their fast, Sansa still took a huge white banner and strung it between the old tower and a wagon.

“Little dove,” Cersei called, in her sickly sweet voice, “Whatever is this?”

Sansa had found that, since the betrothal had been put off and she wasn’t living in the woman’s shadow, the Queen seemed as morbidly fascinated with her as Joffrey. She didn’t expect the wolf beneath the Red Wolf’s skin, had no cause to, but the Lannister was fascinated by her easy detattachment from all of their royal splendor. The mere notion of having to make nice with the mad woman for a moment longer made her sick, but steel was her spine and porcelain was her face with its bright smile.

“Father insists that a tourney isn’t necessary as we’re of the North,” Sansa started, “But, since His Grace is certain it is, I decided to make Father a banner. That probably seems silly.”

“That’s not silly at all,” Cersei encouraged, “It would hardly be a tourney for Lord Stark without his banner. And I’m sure he’ll find joy in knowing you made it.”

Sansa beamed as was expected before beginning her work, “I’m so sorry that the Prince was unwell this morning, Your Grace. I did not mean…”

“No, no, Little Dove,” Cersei cut her off, “You did nothing. My son sometimes feels unsure of his place, because he got the Lannister coloring.”

Her mask was crafted into one of innocent bafflement as she gazed across the yard to the spot where Jaime Lannister was about to go off duty with the midmorn, “Oh but he shouldn’t! Having the Lannister coloring simply means he’ll look like Ser Jaime!” Her blush was pretty and put on, “And that is certainly no harm.”

Cersei threw her head back and laughed, giving Jaime a heated look that confirmed Sansa would still have her chance, “You are right, Little Dove. The Kingslayer is handsome isn’t he?”

“He is, Your Grace.”

The Queen disappeared for a bit, but Sansa caught the moment that she snuck into the old tower, though she didn’t let on. There was a bit of a wait before the Golden Lion also came back into the yard, stripped of his armor, and made a show of speaking with her brothers about training before sneaking in as well. Jon and Robb were still fascinated by the greatest swordsman in Westeros, going back to their lessons twice as invigorated after the exchange.

Sansa had finished the outline and just run out of grey thread when her father, Septa Mordane, and the King himself stumbled upon her. Bran had been running around the tower excitedly asking questions, but since disappeared, so she knew that she had to hurry. Robert made with the best apologies he could for Joffrey’s obvious madness without saying such and offered to make sure she and Renly were reintroduced.

“I was only concerned to see the Prince so unwell, Your Grace,” Sansa dismissed with a smile, “Although I am excited to be reunited with Lord Renly once more.”

“See, Ned, Lady Sansa is excited for your tourney!” Robert exclaimed, only earning an eye roll from his best friend.

“I am!” Though she truly wasn’t, unlike the first time around, no one needed to know that, “But, I need more thread. I saw some in the tower, may I use it, Father?”

“Of course, Sweet Wolf,” Ned looked up, “I need to start an inventory of this old thing. I don’t even know what all is in there.”

That was how Sansa wound up with her Septa, father, and the King following her into the tower. She could neither run up the stairs nor tell them to be quiet, but something from this morning proved useful in keeping Robert’s booming voice from alerting Cersei of his approach, “Septa, what is a sword swallower.”

The poor woman’s nose wrinkled, “That is a horrible and degraded act no true born man would partake in without sickness. You should not worry about such things, my girl, you have not even flowered yet.”

As they passed the last stairs, Sansa played on her confusion and turned back toward her father and the King. She found both men rolling their eyes at the older woman and sharing a grin, but when her father realized she was looking, he just shook his head. It would be a good conversation starter for later.

It was Septa Mordane’s gasp that pulled all of their attentions to the tower’s inhabitants.

Cersei was bent over an old desk, her small clothes were around her ankles, and her twin brother had her dress pushed up. He was leaning over her, still inside the queen, with his own pants pushed down around his knees. There was no doubt about what they were doing.

Sansa would have laughed, if she hadn’t seen a startled Bran in the window, so close to a horrible fate.

“You vile whore!” The King bellowed from behind her Septa and Sansa.

Septa Mordane tried to pull her out of the room, but, still the only one who realized her brother was there, Sansa stepped forward, “Bran, come here!”

The older woman was horrified when the boy jumped into the room and dashed to his sister’s arms. She ushered both of them back down the stairs amid Robert’s fury and her father’s attempts to keep him from going straight to violence.

“Send guards!” Ned shouted after them.

As soon as they emerged into the yard, Sansa dashed toward her brothers and Ser Roderick Cassel, sending her Septa with her young brother, citing the need for them to find her mother, “There is an emergency with the King and Queen! Father needs you! And any Stark guard available!”

Robb took off with haste, Winterfell’s Sergeant of Arms just a step behind him, and the calvary behind them. She was lucky that Arya was on Jon’s back, slowing him down, “I need your help! Lives are at stake!”

“What’s going on?”

“There are three horses and three packs in the old stable by the launder. You have to get them ready, the bags are in the stable next to the grey horse!”

“Sansa…” Jon looked so confused.

“Jon!” She cut him off, “Lives are at stake! I’ll meet you there and tell you everything! Please trust me!”

They were alone as everyone crowded around the old tower, but she had to beat her mother to finding them. All her work to make things better between herself and Arya paid off as the younger girl started yanking on Jon, “Let’s go! I’ll help!”

As soon as Jon was moving, Sansa took off toward the library where Tyrion spent his time surrounding meals. The Little Lion of Lannister tended toward a small nook with a window seat and, luckily, he was a creature of habit.

“Tyrion!”

“Lady Sansa, good…”

“You have to flee!”

“Excuse m…”

“The King discovered Ser Jaime and the Queen having an affair!” Sansa declared, watching as his eyes went wide at the announcement, “They’ve been arrested. He’ll kill you and the younger children if he gets the chance. You have to flee.”

“Jaime…”

“My father will do all he can, I swear,” Sansa kneeled down so that they were eye to eye, “But Myrcella and Tommen are innocent. You have to get them to the Rock. My siblings are getting horses and supplies ready. I need you to get them from the nursery before the guards seize them.”

“Alright… alright.”

“Do you have any valuables?”

“Yes, all my gold and jewels are in a brown sack in the bottom of my black and gold travel chest,” Tyrion confessed, “Beneath my small clothes.”

They went their separate ways quickly. Sansa walked at her normal pace and was relieved that all of the guards had started to catch wind of something and moved toward the windows or courtyard. She was able to slip into Tyrion’s rooms without anyone seeing her.

Sansa grabbed the satchel of gold and a plain cloak from the wardrobe. Then she rushed down the halls toward the rooms of the King and Queen, running into Tyrion with the two sane children of the twins’ affair. Neither of them breathed a word of Joffrey's fate; it wasn't necessary.

She smuggled the other three through the kitchen, everyone still unaware and working on dinner, paying her no mind. The three were all shorter than the counters, so she appeared to be alone. Then she got them out of the launders and out the back door, the closest exit to the stables.

Jon and Arya were there with Nymeria and Ghost, as well as the three horses that were all ready to go. Sansa didn’t answer her siblings' questions until the wolves were leading Tyrion and both children safely out of Winterfell, through the largely unknown gate at the back of the godswood. Tyrion swore that he owed her his life and swore to pay his debt to her back some day; that was filed away for a rainy day.

Sansa was thinking Baelish.

“What is the name of the old gods….” Jon started to say, as his sister started back toward the courtyard.

“The King has caught Cersei Lannister involved in an incestuous affair with her twin brother,” Sansa explained quickly, “He’ll kill the children like he did Elia and her children, if he gets the chance.”

“What about the prat?” Arya demanded.

“He’s still here,” Sansa told her, the three of them pushing through the crowd that had gathered.

Catelyn Stark grabbed her daughters as they appeared.

“We’re fine, Mother,” Sansa told her, taking in the sight of Cersei, who hadn’t even been able to pull her small clothes up, being shamed in the middle of the crowd. Her hands were bound and she’d been placed under arrest, with Jaime in the exact same position, “I was hysterical and Jon took us to the godswood until I could calm down.”

Begrudgingly though it was, her mother had to thank Jon for looking out for the pair. The emergence of his daughters also brought an end to the public display of humiliation, as Ned Stark ordered both Lannisters brought to cells, along with Joffrey. As the trial would have to be in King's Landing for treason, Robert was already screaming for their things to be packed to begin the journey.

Sansa quickly made her peace with the fact that she would be leaving for the viper's pit of overpopulation much sooner than before, accompanied by Jon, Arya, and Bran.


	2. Chapter 2

She slept better that night then she had in all the weeks that she'd been back in time. Stark guards had been put on the Queen's cell, as well as Jaime's and his son's. Sansa had pointed out that, perhaps, even the Kingsguard of the Stormlands, or anyone from King's Landing, might have been bought off. Her parents had agreed and her father had been given all authoritative power, as Robert drank himself into a stupor.

All of Sansa's siblings wound up sleeping in her room. Arya, Bran, Rickon, and herself were in the bed, while Robb and Theon slept back to back in the window seat, and Jon took up residency on the floor. That was how Septa Mordane found all of them the next morning and the woman didn't even bother to scold, knowing the previous day had made them feel safer together.

Robb, bless him, took over their father's daily tasks in Winterfell without prompting, as he saw their mother struggling to do both as they broke their fast. Ned Stark was absent, his wife proclaiming that he'd already eaten, as he was preparing Ravens to go to the King's Small Council and every Lord Paramount in the kingdom. Arya offered to watch Bran and Rickon, with Jon, at Sansa's prompting to take them to the training yard.

That was how she wound up at her father's solar, offering to help him.

"This is all such a mess," The Warden of the North confessed, "The Small Council and Lord Paramounts have been informed. This raven to Tywin Lannister demands he present himself to answer for his children's crimes, but with the dwarf and youngests' escape, he's just as likely to hole up in his rock."

"He'll come for Ser Jaime," Sansa informed him, not thinking past her assured tone until the words were out.

His brow arched, not an outright challenge, but certainly a very curious inquiry.

"The entirety of the Seven Kingdoms knows he detests Lord Tyrion. He will not have him inherit the Rock, despite the fact that his twins have, undoubtedly, put a limit on his family legacy," Sansa shrugged, "He will come for his Golden Lion… I doubt even Tywin Lannister could try to save the Queen."

Ned sat back in his chair, worrying his thumbnail as he sighed, "If the Kingslayer manages to escape the chopping block twice…"

Sansa knew the truth, but she couldn't just say. It was another moment for change, however, "Father, with all due respect, I doubt that Uncle Brandon, or Grandfather, would agree that there was anything for Ser Jaime to escape. His willingness to stop the Mad King only stopped you or King Robert from having to face that choice yourselves."

Ned stared at his daughter. Sansa had never outright challenged him in such a way. Even her confession about Lyanna had been in concern for the boy who was raised as her brother. Defending Lannister wasn't something he'd expected.

In the past weeks his daughter had been ever the adult though, and he'd found himself looking the fool several times when he underestimated her, before Robert's arrival, "And what would be a price great enough for his children's crimes?"

"If the kingdom is in any debt, certainly he should be held accountable for the financial state that his daughter has left the crown in," She squared her shoulders, refusing to be seen as a child in this moment. Any debt the crown was in could be settled quickly and her father would curb Robert from here on out. The King was older and Margery might even be ambitious enough to curb his need to visit brothels at large, "In reference to Ser Jaime, a life for a life and justice for Aunt Elia."

She had shut the door upon entry, but Ned's eyes still shot toward the door, though he was aware the thick door stopped all eavesdropping, even if someone was pressed against it. Sansa was right, he was aware of that much. If Tywin Lannister came to King's Landing, knowing he couldn't simply be killed, it would be another chance to avenge what he did to the Dornish princess.

It was a good plan, but there was more to this story than his daughter realized. Ned looked at his daughter, who was born to be a Queen. He'd once been willing to make his sister a Queen through conquest and Robert, until he learned the truth. Now, there was no doubt that he'd made a mistake that only Lyanna had seen coming.

As correct as Sansa was, she wasn't playing with full knowledge of the players. She had figured out the big secret, but she didn't know the plan that their family, and extended family, had been preparing for as they approached two decades. If he was going to have her and Jon in King's Landing, they had to know.

"Sansa, I want you to read this missive before I send it."

She took the letter quickly and began to read.

_ Dear DM, _

_ The Lannisters have overplayed their hand. Tywin is vulnerable and we may be able to use this to obtain justice, as well as get a foothold in the Capital. Send Loud Snake to be a judge in Cersei's trial and we'll make a bid to get him on the Small Council. _

_ It is time. Bring Griff, I'm bringing the White Wolf. We may have need of the Gold Company, if the Old Lion brings the Lannister army. They're the only neutral army we can use. _

_ I heard the Middle Dragon has already shown his madness. Tell your daughter the truth and end this madness before that is irreparable… The Loud Snake told me. _

_ QW _

Sansa knew who everyone was from Oberyn to Viseryn, everyone except, "Griff?"

"Young Griff, during the summer that's his name under his father and leader of the Gold Company, Griff, whose real name is Jon Connington; best friend of Prince Rhaegar," She startled and Ned smiled gently, "During the Summer he's Prince Aegon Targaryen VI of Dorne. You'll meet him as Ser Griff Dayne, the newly elected Sword of the Morning, and the squire of Prince Oberyn Martell."

This had certainly not happened during her previous lifetime. She could only assume that after her father had been executed and Robb took his own crown, the Martell's must have sent their nephew to Essos and the Gold Company's protection. Their plan was clear if Oberyn brought him to King's Landing. They'd put the first born son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell on the throne.

"Jon?"

Ned shrugged, "The new Lord Targaryen of Dragonstone."

That would make her brother so happy. He'd have a name and family. Sansa would have to make sure that he wound up married to someone decent.

"Legitimizing the Queen's escaped children as Lannisters and giving them the Rock, that will appeal to the King's fury," She shrugged at her father's curious look, "We have to make this deal palatable to him. Tyrion can be regent for the pair and send Ser Jaime to the Wall."

The older Stark thought about that. It would cripple the lifetime of power that Tywin had accumulated, but give his brother the greatest swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms. Benjen had more and more dangerous reports from beyond the Wall and he needed the North strong.

That was how his eldest daughter became his most trusted confidant, by recharting the plan for all of Westeros' ruling class. After a couple of days, once Robert was sober enough to think about his future, and hung over enough to agree, the night before they departed to King's Landing, Ned made Sansa's proposal that the King take the Rose of Highgarden as his next wife.

Robert liked the idea of being married to one of the most beautiful women in the kingdom. He'd dared to suggest Sansa, but Ned had scorned that idea to the deepest of hell's before he drew his next breath, before throwing out Margery. The Reach would love to be in power, but they were also the last region to bend the knee to a non-Targaryen ruler. They'd figure out what to do when Robert died, if there wasn't a reason for Aegon to challenge him before.

Hopefully Margery would bend the knee as Robert's widow, and any children she had could take over the Stormlands, with Renly as regent. That would keep the brother and sister who didn't want to be separated together, in Loras and Margery, from what Ned heard. Olenna would be a beast to pigeon hold, but he was working with his fourteen years old to do it to Tywin Lannister, so it was truly in for a penny at this point; they would work it out.

He was getting more and more disturbing reports about Stannis' new religion. That would have to be dealt with as well.

That night at dinner, Robert had sent off his proposal to Olenna to get her moving toward King's Landing, and made the comment that at least his Queen's brothers would be a cripple and sword swallower. Ned had rolled his eyes and Catelyn silenced the younger children's questions, but he caught Sansa giving him a look and knew that he wouldn't avoid her inquisitively empathic and brilliant mind a second time. Later, when escorting his daughter to her chambers for the night, and to get it out of the way, Ned told Sansa about the difference between the old and new gods and Renly's relationship with Loras.

She took it very well, with few questions, though she did ask if the comparison to disturbing rumors she'd heard from the maids about Lord Bolton's bastard was accurate. He'd denied the two being similar. After getting more information he'd started an investigation through the Umbers that Robb shouldn't have to deal with as he started his time under Catelyn's tutelage, then he'd seen to his wife's needs, knowing they would be apart for some time.

The kingdom was in a state of crisis and they'd agreed that Robb needed a year with her as a safety net. By then Bran would be squiring under Brynden Tully and Arya would be coming back North with them to squire with the Mormonts, under Sansa's suggestion, so their goodbyes to their mother and Rickon were emotional. But, Ned had barely been able to stay on his horse after his long night the entire first day.

After sleeping it off that night, the newly appointed Hand of the King had to admit that Robert set a grueling pace for anyone as he longed for King's Landing and to see Cersei's head roll. It would be a lie to say that he hadn't worried about Sansa most, still thinking of her as that girl with her head in the clouds, especially as she'd offered to ride a horse instead of in the wheel house to allow them faster travel, but the maiden handled life on her valiant steed better than the King.

Robert struggled from the North to the Crownlands without wine and whores, indulging whatever nights they stayed at an inn, while not one complaint fell from Sansa's mouth. He had thoughts of betrothing his daughter to Aegon, but Ned soon realized that he'd have to meet the boy first; it would be a rare gem who could keep up with Sansa. He'd much rather his daughter be happy than a Queen.

The day that they arrived in King's Landing, Ned was sore and wanted nothing more than a day to get his household settled in the Tower of the Hand. He'd never felt his age as much as he had on the journey to the Capital and had realized half way that he would have been turning over the reigns of the North to his oldest son by the time the next winter ended, if not before.

Instead what he got was Robert demanding a Small Council as soon as they had been received. His oldest daughter was ever on his arm in the throne room, a little tense, probably due to the fact that her grandfather and uncle died here, promising to see to their household's settlement. She left the room, Arya one step behind as had become their habit, and Jon joining at her other shoulder at the back of the room to keep both safe, as the trio made for their new home.

Following Robert into the Small Council chamber after seeing them off, there was only one silver lining to this entire travesty.

"Ned!"

"Renly!" The two of them collided into a tight embrace and Robert plopped into his chair at the head of the table, though his grin was fond, "My oldest girl could not be more excited to see you, Ren."

"Sansa? Gods, it's hard to even believe that she can even remember me!"

"Well she does! Promise me you'll come see her at this travesty of a tournament, if we can't talk him out of it?"

"He'll be there," Robert promised, "Because it's happening. We're about to be debt free, thanks to the quick thinking of our new Hand, after all."

That got a round of questions from Peter Baelish, the Master of Coin. But, Ned absolutely refused to give that little worm more attention than he demanded and focused his attention on making sure his daughter's ideas came to life. Especially after they received confirmation that Olenna, Oberyn, and Tywin were inbound to the city; Varys, the Master of Whispers, confirmed that the Tyrells were but days away 

The King made a lusty comment, but they were too close to the end of the day for him to correct Robert. After all, they started Cersei's trial at dawn. The Stark just wanted a night to rest in a real bed.

"Father!" Sansa's face was the first he found upon being led to his apartment, "How did the council meeting go?"

Suddenly he was seated at the apartment's dining table with a hot plate of food. The low table of their seating area was pushed closer to the fireplace then he would typically like, but Sansa was pushing it further away as he dug in, and it was truly a testament to how late he was getting back, more than anything. This felt like delivering an infant Aegon to Dorne, after Jon Connington approached him in the streets with information on Lyanna, after his fight with Robert over Elia's end.

The kingdom was in upheaval and he was stuck in a brand new position he had no idea how to fulfill.

"Well, the good news is that Stannis Baratheon's Red Priestess and wife are no more," Ned didn't like saying it, but two women willing to throw themselves into fire, well, "Devotion to their fire god gone wrong."

"What does that mean for him and Lady Shireen?"

Sansa knew that girl was good, much like Myrcella and Tommen. She hadn't deserved her father's self appointed status and lust for its validation. Margery was loyal to House Baratheon after she married in, so hopefully without Cersei, she could save them from themselves.

"He is bringing her to King's Landing," Ned admitted, "The Tyrells should arrive tomorrow and Mace has been offered a spot as a judge, alongside Renly and Oberyn. The Dornish should arrive in a week's time, alongside the Old Lion, gods help us."

"Seems like the Dornish would take longer."

"Tywin took time to bring the army, smart given his position," Finished, the Hand of the King started toward his personal rooms, following Sansa, so he could get clean and ready for sleep, "Oberyn is hard charging and, to be fair, he's a Maester and the Warrior in one body. Very little is a threat to him with Ellaria and the oldest half of the Sand Snakes guarding his back."

That was true, but Sansa couldn't justify all of her knowledge of the Red Viper. It was a relief to get her father to say such. Taking a seat in the window, Sansa thought over her chance here.

She needed the Kingdoms united, but still willing to support a change in leadership. The Baratheons had to be neutralized. Robert would be easy enough to deal with when the time came. Margery and Renly wouldn't fight a dragon and, while Sansa had to make peace with having no idea what was going on in Essos, Danerys would certainly still birth the dragons somehow.

"What if he reorganized the Small Council?"

"How so?"

"How much debt was the Crown in?"

"Too much. This situation is an act of Divine Mercy."

Sansa's eyes seemed to have just finished rolling when he stepped around the partition between the bedroom and solar from dressing, but Ned couldn't place her grin. Still, he accepted the glass of wine she'd set out, "Baelish did not do his job well."

"Baelish… The one who fought Uncle Brandon?"

Rolling his eyes, the Hand couldn't believe Cat had told their daughter that story, but she'd always liked his attention, especially after he brought Jon home. The mockingbird hadn't moved on, Ned didn't care what his wife argued, "Yes. You should stay away from him."

"With pleasure," Sansa snapped, before quickly moving on, "If the King believes he is Cersei's man, have him dismissed. Make Prince Oberyn the new Master of Coin. Will His Grace give Lord Stannis the Stormlands?"

That would really mess up her future plans. She had to keep that from Stannis, as a prize if he forgot his brother's joke of a claim through conquest. He couldn't be allowed to go back to Stormlands beforehand.

"Never, despite my argument for it and Renly's agreement."

"Then, perhaps, Lord Renly should step down as Master of Laws," She suggested, relieved, "Name Lord Paxter Redwyne as Master of Ships and Lord Stannis as Master of Laws."

"Hmm…" Without that priestess to worry about, that wasn't a bad idea. He would benefit from having Stannis around to help curb Robert. Renly was a good boy, the lad was just too young to do much against his mountain of an eldest brother. And Renly and Loras would be a good escape for Margery and her children, should she need it.

Of course, he'd been trying to keep the siblings together, but there was time. Renly, even if he stepped down, wouldn't leave the Capital before the trial, tourney, and wedding, which were scheduled in that order. In the end, they could stretch their time together out for a year, before he'd need to go back to the Stormlands.

"Alright, I'll suggest the changes."

He didn't know when he drank the entire glass of wine, but Sansa was quick about collecting it on her way out, "You should sleep… When are you going to tell Jon?"

"We are supposed to go riding in the morning."

Sansa retreated into her own room, unsurprised to find Arya already there. They were sharing as they had before she begged her mother for a room away from the other girl, and, although her sister had her own bed, she'd taken to Sansa's tonight. The city was a hard place to adjust to.

Or readjust to.

Tomorrow she would be expected to meet with Margery and act as a part of the Queen incumbent's court. It would be a chance to make or break allies. Arya was responsible for Bran and confined to the Tower of the Hand at large, meaning Jon would be with her.

Olenna was bound to have a field day at the expense of her 'bastard brother' and right after Father told him the truth. She might have to see if Dacey Mormont could escort her. Arya usually preferred the shebear, but Jon was in for a rough morning.

As she faded off to sleep, Sansa struggled to get her mind to stop. All night she was plagued by the sight of Dany, she was with a very large Dothraki man and had a baby boy. In the vision they seemed to be conquering Essos. There were dragons, but two were given to a blonde teenager Sansa didn't know, though he had hair like the Dragon Queen's.

Only the green and gold dragon stayed with her. And though she seemed successful in conquering Essos, there were changes to her. She was in love and didn't show the same entitled sign of madness, even as she trained her dragon.

Startling awake to Arya's calls, she didn't know what the dreams meant, if anything. Throwing on her favorite dress, with the Essos material and white wolves, Sansa threw her hair back into four braids down her scalp, and got her sister dressed. Once they were both ready, both moved out to break their fast and face their second day in King's Landing.

Her father and Jon were already waiting at the table, her dour cousin looking like he'd been put through the works, and Septa Mordane was rushing Bran out of his room and toward the table. Food was a quick affair, with Arya and Bran holding most of the conversation about what they’d seen while arriving in the Capital with the King the day before. Luckily the two youngest Starks with them were able to pull smiles from the two men.

As their father left for the Small Council and trial, Sansa went to pray with all of her siblings. The Godswood of King’s Landing was always lacking when compared to Winterfell. A great oak covered in smokeberry vines simply wasn’t comparable to a weirwood tree. The point was driven home when both Arya and Bran were confused by the heart tree, before they ran off with their wolves instead of praying, forcing Septa Mordane to follow.

Jon was silent on his knees beside her and that simply wouldn’t do.

“You are a Stark of Winterfell,” Sansa told him, “You have the blood of the First Men running through your veins and the ice of the North with it.”

“... It’s the otherside of the coin that scares the hell out of me.”

“Then choose your friends and family well and stay accountable to them,” She suggested, “You are still our brother.”

After sitting for a while in silence, Jon moved to sit on his backside, hands lounging on his knee, and his grin ecstatic, “I have a brother.”

“You do,” Sansa acknowledged, grinning back.

They were interrupted by Septa Mordane screaming at both sets of wolves, human and beast alike. The look they shared seemed to settle what upset Jon was still experiencing and he took off to aid the older woman in rounding up her beasts of burden. She finished her prayer, the same chant that had been her mantra since she came back to this time, and Sansa didn’t go a day without reminding herself of it.

More good, than harm.

One of the greatest power houses of destruction from her time had been uprooted like a weed. Cersei was locked in the black cells with Jaime and Joffrey, while Tywin was mere days away. Things had changed so much, she knew so much more. This had to make a difference.

"Lady Stark, good morrow."

She stood quickly, shaking out her skirts to curtsy, "Good morrow, Lord Varys. I am but Lady Sansa, my mother is ever Lady Stark."

"Not as I recall it, my dear," The eunuch dismissed, stepping closer to her, "For in what world would the Red Wolf of Winterfell be anyone but Lady Stark to me?"

Gasping and taking a step back, Sansa was thrilled that the wolves were distracting her septa, "H… How?"

"As we came to our ends, the Red Priestess gave me one request," He shrugged, offering his arm, "I ask only that the rightful Queen be given the chance to make a difference and that I should be there to help her."

"I have no interest in being Queen," Sansa informed him, taking his arm,"That is not the objective."

"Of course not. When the chance to see your rival and tormentor humiliated presented itself, you but ran to protect her children," Varys led her through the paths of the godswood, away from her family, "And yet here we are."

She refused to argue with him over this, Margery was to be the Queen, until Aegon married and usurped the usurper, "What have you done?"

"I am unsure of my ability to stop the Dragon Queen's descent into madness, but I believe I've delayed it for a while. Her husband and son are strong, and she has no plans as of now to turn toward Westeros," They took a seat in a bench where they could see her band of Starks and their keeper, but we're shaded from sight themselves, "I know that Ser Snow is anxious for a reunion justifiably, but it will take time. Griff Dayne has been sent to parlay with her by his uncles. If he is successful…"

"He will be."

"My lady?"

"I saw it. In a dream. She will give him two of the dragons and agree to fight with him should he call."

"This dream…"

"It only happened last night. I thought, I didn't…" She began to stutter, unsure and nervous as she realized she'd seen something real.

"There is no one else in the Seven Kingdoms, who I would trust with magic, Lady Sansa. You are sound of mind and good of heart," Varys sat back and thought, his gaze landing on her younger brother, "If I had to guess, you made the choice to save him. That choice had consequences, especially if one of the Starks of Winterfell is meant to have magic."

"So, I'll become the Three Eyed Raven?"

"I do not say this without compassion, but, Bran Stark died the day he fell from the tower and the Raven was all that woke," Varys summarized, having made a point to understand the magic that he could as a result of hating it, "Whatever abilities you gain, I do not think the old gods would have permitted you to be sent back, only for you to lose yourself."

They were silent for several long moments and Sansa kept her breathing even, despite the fact that her panic internally was vast. Being a witch had never been her goal. Still, this gave her more knowledge then she had previously.

"Tyrion?"

"Safely ensconced within the Rock with the children, my lady."

"My father is going to have Baelish dismissed from the Council."

Varys wasn't sure that was wise, "Having him safe in the Eyrie…"

"He'll never make it there. Can you get a message to Tyrion?"

Seeing the beauty of that plan, Varys agreed for her to prepare the missive. He'd see it to the Little Lion with haste, "The alliance between the Stags and Roses will be much stronger this time."

As much as she'd tried to think positively, Sansa knew that was true. It had been a thought creeping at the back of her mind all day, "But, can they fight the combined forces of the North, Riverlands, Vale, and Dorne?"

"And the West as well," Varys told her, "Tyrion is quite taken with you, my lady."

"I'll remember that. Let us pray that Margery has a girl for her first child."

"My lady?"

"Do you know about Aegon?"

"Someone had to swap him for a servant's babe and smuggle him from the Red Keep."

"This Griff, he won't marry the widow of the usurper. But, to keep the peace, perhaps he would marry his heir to Margery's daughter."

That was brilliant. Varys could see that. When Sansa's septa began searching for her, she was short and snooty with the Master of Whispers, so he took exceptional pleasure in the Red Wolf's easy dismissal of the woman. He'd brought Oakheart and Clegane, who was thrilled with a chance to break from the Lannisters, with him as a show of knowledge, and Sansa easily left with them to meet the Queen incumbent.

Ser Snow joined their ranks and Varys saw more of Rhaegar in his face everyday. He sincerely hoped that having the brothers near to one another wouldn't be a flare of wildfire. Having never seen Aegon in the flesh since his infancy, he wasn't sure, but the babe had been the image of his father at birth, his only marker of Elia having been his sand colored skin.

Robert managed to pull himself from Cersei's trial and his campaign to see her head off in an expedited fashion, long enough to greet his future bride. Just as she was able to tame Joffrey, at least in some form, Margery Tyrell had no problem with the Fat King. Varys would never show devotion to the Rose of Highgarden like that he had toward House Targaryen, or that which Lady Sansa earned through shared trials, but he could admit that she was a decent placeholder.

She might be ambitious and manipulative, but she would bring the crown some respect back. They had no control over if she had sons, but he hoped for the sake of peace Sansa's idea could take root. Like her grandmother had sacrificed to give her granddaughter a crown, would Margery give up a throne to see her family back upon it? Especially if she was to be staring down a dragon, there was hope.

Melissande had sacrificed herself and Stannis' wife in an attempt to see this plan through. The middle Baratheon brother was still a complication. The more Varys thought it through, the more he thought Margery providing another heir to the Stormlands would work. Stannis was all about right of succession; if he didn't have a legitimate claim, he went away as a threat.

"A eunuch and a bastard at the Queen Incumbent's table," Olenna started before wine was even served in the garden.

Varys wished they were in a tavern.

"My brother brings no more attention, then bigamists and sword swallowers. Wouldn't you say, Lady Olenna?"

The maiden kissed by fire and the crone with a tongue of valyrian steel stared one another down evenly. Clashing Tully blue and Tyrell grey was enough to make even Varys shift in his seat, though he spotted Margery and Jon locking eyes at losses for how to intervene. They all breathed deep when Olenna threw her heads back and laughed.

"The little wolf has teeth," The Queen of Thorns acknowledged with a genuine smile, a rare gift from such a woman, "I approve."

Sansa flushed, glancing down to her lap. She had always liked and admired Olenna. Any woman grand enough to make it to that special crone stage, they deserved a certain level of reverence.

Margery bounced back quickly, "Now, Lady Sansa, I know my grandmother requires one to hold their ground at first, but I had heard you had history with Lord Renly."

"I do, indeed! As a child I begged him not to return to the Stormlands, wanting him to remain by my side. My own big brothers were…" Sansa turned to appraise Jon deeply, "Lacking in dutiful attention to their baby sister."

Jon snorted, taking a drink of wine, "We preferred the training yard to tea parties. I'll have to beg your forgiveness."

Ser Oakheart snorted from his station by the entrance. Clegane rolled his eyes.

"Oh, so he does speak!" Margery declared, eyes glittering, "I always felt for the strong and silent type, but it was getting to be a bit much."

"Wait until he starts brooding."

"Excuse you!"

Margery giggled as the siblings set to bickering, "Oh, I wish Loras wasn't on duty. He would love this!"

Sansa wasn't surprised when Jon quickly grew bored of his invitation and took up guard near Ser Oakheart. The two could easily become friends this time. She'd keep an eye on them.

Amid Margery and all of her cousins, Sansa was struck by how similar and different this time around was, "Are you excited to marry, Lady Margery."

"I am fortunate to be chosen, though I never would have wished what Lannister has done to the kingdom on the people."

"Your father was a witness to the discovery, Sansa. Was it as graphic as they say?"

"Lady Sansa was there for the discovery as well."

She confirmed Varys' statement, "It was abhorrent. There is no doubt that this trial will pass quickly. Her guilt is unquestionable."

"I wonder if they'll wait to sentence until the Old Lion arrives?"

"Will you have to testify, Lady Sansa?"

"She will. I'll deliver her whenever the judges send word."

Sansa hadn't really thought of that, but she wasn't truly nervous. This was nothing compared to her first time in King's Landing. The Red Keep was a variable Utopia compared to its culture during Cersei's reign.

"I heard the barbaric cunt caused quite the sight, charging in to be a judge."

"Prince Oberyn did have to ride hard and arrive before his party to make it in time. The King has been insistent."

So, the Red Viper was here. His nephew was in Essos and his party of Sand Snakes was inbound. That would be interesting.

It was no surprise that Sansa was roped into helping with wedding planning after the trial, but Margery did help her finish her father's banner for the tourney. She wasn't called to testify until late in the afternoon, ending her day with the Tyrells.

Cersei looked awful, her golden locks knotted and dirty, her body thin. The black cells had not been kind to her and Sansa was unmoved on any level. Her father had endured the same.

Renly and Oberyn were gentle, the first man offering her a warmly regarding smile that she returned, putting on nervousness. Both men told her what they needed and asked most of the questions. Mace asked a few questions, mostly trying to see if she'd trip up concerning either of the accused's small clothes or pubes.

It was over without much fanfare and Sansa was leaving with her father and Septa Mordane to have dinner. Jon joined them outside the door and followed them to the Tower of the Hand.

The next few days were relatively quiet. They fell into a routine following her testimony, with her father attending Small Council and the trial on alternating days. After that first day, she considered Varys one of her closest friends and confidants.

Petyr Baelish had been dismissed and replaced by Oberyn, but he wasn't leaving the Capital until after the Tourney of the Hand. Her plea for help from Tyrion had been sent to the Rock. There was a great chance that this part of her plan would fail, as it was so far out of her hands, but Sansa had to admit that she couldn't do everything herself.

The sentence of guilt was delivered the day before Tywin arrived, and Sansa watched Cersei and Joffrey lose their heads on the steps of the Sept of Baelor, before the treasonous Lannister's father, on the day of his arrival. Unable to do anything for his daughter or grandson, the Old Lion demanded Ser Jaime be brought from the black cells during negotiations.

He might have had to address Robert, but Sansa was well aware that it was her father he was negotiating with. And Ned Stark agreed to keep the Golden Lion in the Tower of the Hand. That was how Sansa wound up nursing Jaime Lannister back to health. Once it happened the time traveller was shocked she hadn't seen it coming from a mile away, when her father finally had it out with the Golden Lion.

It wasn't losing a hand, but the black cells were unkind. To the point that Sansa wasn't surprised that it wore on the man enough, he confessed the truth about Aerys, but this time it was directly to the wolf who first condemned the lion.

"Burn them all! Half a million people, Stark," Jaime hissed, "What good would it have done to tell you the truth? The Honorable Ned Stark?"

"... None. I would have still called you Kingslayer, because that's what you were."

Sansa was shocked from her room, eavesdropping with Arya. She was positive that Bran and Jon were doing much the same from their room. Despite what the greatest swordsman in Westeros had been caught doing with his sister, he was still just that and their admiration hadn't quite been as dashed as it was in her original timeline.

The sounds that occurred in the silence had Arya looking up at her confused. Sansa recognized the sound of wine being poured though and held a finger to her lips for silence. She caught the moment when her father sat down at the table with Jaime.

After an eternity she finally heard, "...But, the difference would have been, you idiotic cunt, that I'd have meant it as a nickname. I would have said it because, well, that's what people were going to call you anyway, so we may as well have owned it and turned it into something you were proud of…"

They must have been staring one another down and she would have given her own right hand to see their faces. Her father broke first once more and he just sounded so finished, as he well should be for the late hour.

"What is the matter with you!?"

"I don't know," Jaime sounded so defeated and resigned, "My entire life… The only person I could trust was Cersei. Every other time I tried, I failed."

"You saved half a million people and ate shit for it for years," Ned hissed, "Now, you can't fuck your sister and you're done with life? Resigned to the chopping block?"

"I promised Rhaegar the last time he left the Red Keep that I would protect his wife and children as if they were my own," Jaime sobbed, "All three of them are dead. All of my children are dead. And, yes, Cersei too. What do I have left, Stark? Worth taking the black for?"

The next words were said so quietly that Arya couldn't hear them, but Sansa did because she suspected what her father was saying.

"What if I told you that two of his children live," Ned whispered, "What if I swore to you that your youngest are safely at the Rock with your little brother?"

That confirmed if Varys was confiding, to some degree, in her father. It made things easier. She didn't want to worry all the time about keeping her relationship with the Master of Whispers secret.

And that was how Jaime Lannister joined their ranks.

Her name day came and went. Despite his ridiculously busy schedule, her father still had a silver choker made for her; in the center was a blue gem shaped like a winter rose. It brought tears to her eyes.

As life continued, Sansa was more shocked when, following their confrontation, she would damn near swear that the Hand of the King and his prisoner were… Friends. It was the strangest thing Sansa had seen to date and she'd lived through dragons at Winterfell. Her father, Ned Stark, and the Golden Lion of Lannister, Brienne’s Jaime, were chummy!

After that night, it was no longer strange to walk in the Hand's apartments to find Jaime sparring with Arya and Bran, using training swords that Jon swiped from the castle's training yard. Her father didn't mind, especially as the horrendously long trial for the Lannister drug on and on. Tywin might be getting up there in years, unable to save his daughter or her first born because the crime was so heinous, but he was proving Sansa right.

He'd salt and burn the Seven Kingdoms for Jaime.

The main issue, according to her father, wasn't even Tywin's sense of self preservation in response to facing Dornish Justice. He'd agreed readily to his life for his son's, Ned Stark told the three of them when he returned late from another night of negotiations. Their father had been talking to Jon and Sansa more and more, since both now knew the truth, and Jaime was relieved to be hearing honest, if harsh, information on what was happening in the world after months in the black cells.

Sansa had already checked on Arya and Bran. Both were fast asleep before their father even returned home, their wolves at their side. Lady was still safely beside her as well, the shewolf currently snuggled by the fire with Ghost.

No, the main issue, for Tywin, was apparently the issue of Tyrion's regency for Tommen. He could live with the get of his own twin's incest inheriting the Rock, but not a dwarf. Even Jaime had to snort.

Sansa rubbed her forehead. She'd been feeling poorly all day and she was sick of discussing Tywin Lannister's hypocrisy. The kingdom was out of debt as reparation for Cersei's treason, but any rumors from her original time about the Rock being broke had clearly been a lie, because the Old Lion was willing to pay handsomely to keep Tyrion from inheriting.

Robert refused to cooperate, of course. Sansa suspected that it was as much about the Fat King's pride, as it was his general willingness to make things difficult. The longer she spent around him, as a result of Margery’s fondness for her, the more she thought it possible that Joffrey had been his son and simply taken after his cunt mother’s coloring.

"Sweet wolf, you feel poorly. This will hold until tomorrow."

And it was about to have to. She already had a long day coming up, having to go with Arya, Jeyne, and Septa Mordane to get fabrics. The Tourney of the Hand was a mere week away and it had become a much larger event then she remembered, requiring all new dresses… Or outfits, in some cases.

Sansa had just started toward her room without protest, when a thought struck her, "What about your uncle?"

Jaime perked up, "Kevan?"

"What would the Old Lion rather?" She inquired with a shrug, "The Rock leaving his lineage's grip for a few years, or Tyrion inheriting?"

Not bothering to stick around for a response, catching the Golden Lion's quip of, "Fucking brilliant she is. What cunt could you possibly find to keep up with her?" Still made the maiden smile.

The next morning was as tedious as she expected, though the reason for her to be newly adorned came from much welcomed changes. Even if they meant dealing with shopping for herself and Arya, as her septa trailed after the younger girl to try and contain her in the busy market.

Her father was being celebrated as a Hand equal to that of Tywin Lannister, as he turned the Seven Kingdoms for the better in the wake of his arrival. His quick thinking and control of Robert Baratheon had granted that the crown was debt free and in the same dust he arrived, the previous Warden of the North expedited the use of the same feeding programs he had at home, between the Red Keep and the people of Flea Bottom.

Without need to focus on proving Cersei’s adultery, Ned Stark had been able to make a difference for thousands, who were no longer going hungry. In addition, he’d raised the taxes on brothels once. It wasn’t to the same levels that he implemented in the North, of course, but Sansa knew that he’d work towards it. There was no use in harming working women by making the backlash fall on them.

He would keep implementing changes and have greater support when Stannis Baratheon arrived. Renly and Oberyn tried, but the Baratheon brother was truly still too young for such a prominent position, and the Martell prince was new. Robert was still whoring and drinking up a storm, but at least Margery took it in stride and largely tamed her fiance, when she was present.

Sansa found a dark grey silk for her sister’s new tunic, and a white garland of clay fish to adorn it. It was simple and could speak to both of their heritages, without overwhelming her sister, who had promised to help her get this over with quickly, before promptly disappearing. Stupid, horse faced…

That wasn’t fair, Sansa knew. She loved Arya, but the night hadn’t cured her ailment, and she did not want to be here. Her stomach cramped, her head hurt, and she was exhausted.

There was a lovely Tully blue silk that she nabbed to make her own dress, alongside a light silver silk for accents. She explored trying to find something to adorn the dress that could represent her Stark heritage. Despite her father’s hard work and the admiration spilling over to him from the small people, the wolf had not yet made a fashionable appearance in the marketplace at large.

Jon wound up finding the perfect thing, where she was perusing on his arm. He drug them over to the jewellers, where he had spotted a dainty set of silver jewelry, the set hosting a ring, necklace, and belt. At the center of each thin, but well crafted, silver chain of the necklace and belt was a red ruby, which looked startlingly like a wolf. The ruby along the belt was of an obnoxious size, but the necklace was little better. A silver wolf with ruby eyes made up the ring. 

It was gorgeous, but still simple enough for her age.

“Cat, darling!”

The voice made her freeze.

Baelish.

Steeling her spine, Sansa turned in unison with Jon, keeping her face utterly perfect porcelain. She appraised the man who had been equal parts her protector and tormentor. The changes made by her father had not been kind to the man.

He was thin, pale in a sickly way, and his eyes were red; probably from too many spirits. Reduced to his plan to marry her aunt, Sansa was sure, made him miserable. Now, he was searching for another way to her family, probably to her mother.

“Are you familiar with me, my lord?”

Petyr appraised her, stepping up and unbearably close to her and Jon, his hand snaking around her other arm, “No, my dear, I am…”

“Remove your hand from my sister!” Jon demanded, hand going to the pommel of his sword.

Ghost and Lady were with them in the marketplace, and both took exception to Baelish touching her. They snarled and snapped at the Vale man, backing him away and ensuring that everyone gave them a wide berth, and Sansa was tempted to give both lots of treats when they returned to the Hand’s apartments.

She gladly stepped back behind her brother, jerking away from Little Finger smoothly. The man from the Vale sneered at Jon, undoubtedly about to comment on the fact that he was not Sansa’s brother in some misplaced defence of her mother’s honor, but they were stopped from making a scene by a new arrival. It was almost too bad; seeing Jon cut down Petyr for assaulting her would have been a much quicker way to go about things.

“A little young, even for you, isn’t she, Baelish?”

Glancing back up the street, she spotted Oberyn and Ellaria approaching them with three of the Sand Snakes. She knew her father was in closed negotiations between the King and Tywin today, so she wasn’t even surprised the prince was exploring with his family. Sansa kept her face blank, but smiled internally at her brother finally getting to meet some of his family.

By marriage, at least.

The Red Viper’s paramour caught Sansa’s eyes, the warmth in her gaze reminding the maiden deeply of her own mother, “Are you alright, little one? Did he harm you?”

Her dark hand reached out for the girl and Sansa willingly went to hang on the woman’s arm, quickly finding herself comfortably situated between Ellaria and a blonde Sand Snake in a striking green dress. She smiled at both, “No, my lady. The impropriety simply startled me.”

The sight of the Red Viper and two of his Sand Snake guards backing Jon, along with two growing direwolves, had Petyr trying to play the harmless fool, “Nothing so nefarious would ever be my intent. I was over zealous in announcing my good fortune to marry Lady Sansa’s aunt, Lysa Tully, after I mistook her for her lady mother.”

“My aunt has not mentioned a marriage in her future,” Sansa dismissed, putting on a show of appraising Petyr now that there was a line of Jon and three Dornish warriors between them, as well as two wolves more on either side of her, “Mourning is still in it's heights, however, and… Baelish? I’ve heard that name has quite the history with House Stark.”

Oberyn snorted somewhere between them.

“I am a loyal friend of Lady Catelyn,” Baelish justified, “And I would never mean to cause alarm. I shall leave you to your loyal guards. Perhaps I will see you at the tourney being held for your lord father; your aunt will have made the announcement by then.”

“Sansa?!” Septa Mordane called out, loud and worried.

“And the happy couple will, of course, have our utmost excitement,” Sansa allowed.

Petyr bowed and began to back away slowly, keeping a wary eye on Lady and Ghost, who were still growling. Once he was gone with the crowd, Sansa spotted her septa and the younger girls over by a food vendor, and stood on her tiptoes to wave them over. By the time she caught the woman’s attention, the septa had noticed both Baelish and the Dornish party.

Summer and Nymeria pushed into their circle first, checking Jon and Sansa, before also worrying Ghost and Lady. Sansa took a brief moment to wonder if Ghost detested being stuck here with all of his sisters, while Grey Wind and Shaggy got to run around the North together. Nothing could be done for it, of course, but the white wolf would manage.

“What happened?”

“Petyr Baelish assaulted Sansa,” Jon started.

Her septa was never going to like Jon, at least not that she would admit. But, since they came to King’s Landing months ago now, and Sansa’s father was always in a closed meeting, the woman had to admit that Jon was always there to help with his siblings. Sansa tried as well, but she had also assumed all the responsibility for their household in the tower, which no one had expected her to have to do, so everyone was adjusting.

“Accosted, might be a more accurate term,” Sansa told them, “Septa Mordane, might I introduce you to Prince Oberyn Martell and his paramour, Lady Ellaria Sand. They helped Jon protect me from Lord Baelish.”

“You have my gratitude, Prince Oberyn.”

“The pleasure was all mine, my lady,” Oberyn wasn’t paying the woman any attention, his gaze had already wandered to the jewelry on display, “Might I purchase this set, my friend? For Lady Sansa?”

The merchant, probably relieved that he hadn’t lost their interest after the scuffle, was quick to start wrapping the set for her.

Sansa tried to courteously decline, but Ellaria waved her off, “Darling girl, he’s set in his ways. Let him.”

“We’re flattered, Prince Oberyn,” Septa Mordane started, “But perhaps I should get the children back home, after their fright.”

“I wasn’t afraid!” Arya declared, “If I’d have been here…”

She went for Needle, only appearing slightly intimidating because of the large grey direwolf behind her, and Sansa watched Oberyn Martell adopt an honorary Sand Snake. As much as her sister was struck at meeting the Red Viper, the prince seemed utterly charmed by her shewolf sister. Obara and Nymeria were rather taken with the young girl as well, Arya stirring their desire for their younger sisters back in Dorne.

Bran was a bit standoffish with the party, but Ellaria’s motherly nature drew him out quickly. He wound up telling her all about his plans to squire under the Blackfish and be a knight. The woman seemed taken with the idea of a young rambunctious boy, and Sansa supposed that happened when one had eight daughters, but no sons.

Though Septa Mordane was chilly with their grown party, set in her ways as the woman was, she did show the proper appreciation for having more adults around. She was able to help Jeyne find suitable materials and took the girl back to the Tower of the Hand, when the Starks were invited to dine with the Dornish. Sansa sent Dacey Mormont with them to ensure their safety.

Sansa fell a bit in love with Tyene, personally. While the girl was apparently well versed in daggers, for self defense purposes, her specialty was poison. Much like her father before her. And even that seemed to be a matter of practicality; her passions were in the more gentle arts, despite being mature for her age.

The oldest Stark daughter would have handcuffed them together, had she been able. She trailed around the market with Tyene, both girls helping the other find plenty of materials and adornments for a week worth of dresses. They were trailed by the more warrior-like Sand Snakes, the Red Viper, and Jon.

Arya seemed content thinking Jon’s admiration of Oberyn was military based, but Sansa saw how absolutely taken her brother was with the idea of having a family. Just like they would always be family, it wasn’t about blood necessarily. It was the knowledge that his parents hadn’t been bad people, they weren’t selfish; Rhaegar was not a rapist. She knew that one had probably been the hardest for Jon to confront after growing up in the North.

Their party left the Red Keep for the walled villa that the Dornish had acquired, just as the sun began to set. Dornish horses, which they had borrowed from Prince Oberyn, after the man sent word to their father where his children were, apparently had stronger stomachs than most. None of the seven steeds, where Arya was riding with Jon, and Bran with Sansa, so much as glanced twice at the wolves running alongside them.

Sansa took exceptional pleasure in feeding the bright red stallion, with blonde hair at the tinge of his mane and hoof fuzz. He behaved so well for her. He was an utter delight to behold, in light of their impromptu visit.

The villa was beautiful. It was made of a pale stone that glistened in the setting sun as they approached, and captured the scent of Blackwater Bay, instead of Flea Bottom. Of course, everything was donned in orange, with red suns and golden spears. It was a lovely place; enchanting, really.

Sansa settled into the main sitting area, with Tyene and Ellaria, to begin preparing their new dresses. Obara and Nymeria seemed content to entertain her younger siblings, which Ellaria assured her were true intentions when Sansa expressed concerns. She happily settled into her work when she spotted Oberyn taking Jon into the gardens to talk privately.

She had the perfect dress envisioned for the materials she’d found prior to Baelish’s ambush. The underskirt was going to be the shining silver material she’d found, but her overdress was going to be Tully blue. She was going to set the sleeves off her shoulders and Sansa wanted to train the silver material around her sleeves, shoulders, and the bottom of her skirt in two wave like patterns, like that on the Tully sigil. Since she was wearing a red ruby, in the shape of a direwolf, Tyene talked her into stitching pearls around the top of the bodice, and she used a cloth white belt on the grey underskirt; that would help her silver belt stand out, along with the direwolf ruby.

The shining blue and silver would look like water rippling, but the jewelry, silver, and pearls would finally declare her the Red Wolf of Winterfell in this timeline.

Dinner came and went, their father still not coming to find them. Sansa explained to the Dornish that such was typical and soon they were dining without him. The food was spicy; her younger siblings took exceptional pleasure in Sansa coughing and taking a moment to adjust.

They were back to their previous activities soon enough, but Sansa noted that Jon and Oberyn joined the older Sand Snakes with Arya and Bran in the garden. Torches were lit and then baths prepared, when the young students tired of their sparring lessons. Her siblings were dressed in clean clothes Ellaria managed to keep around from her younger children and soon Bran and Arya were passed out in a pile with all of the wolves before the fireplace.

Sansa had gotten the body of her dress finished and was working on adornments, with Jon unconscious on the floor with the younger Stark children and the wolves, while Tyene worked on her own dress, and Ellaria helped Sansa by making Arya’s tunics. The woman missed making things for her little ones, and cited several times how much had been heaped on Sansa since her arrival in the Capital.

Although she praised Sansa's abilities throughout the night, Sansa wouldn't lie and say that it didn't feel good, having someone take up for her. She felt older and had so much knowledge, but it was still a beastly burden, and she was eternally grateful for her new Dornish family. And Oberyn seemed quite insistent that they would always be family, even telling that much to Bran and Arya throughout the night.

“Hmmm… Lady, it’s a good name,” The Dornish prince remarked, after hearing her story about the day they found the direwolves, “Is that what you always aspired to be?”

She could have said yes and moved on. Sansa knew that would have been the simplest solution. But, these people already felt like family; the plots her father had been hatching with them, to give their shared nephews a chance at life, they were family. It seemed wrong to short change them.

A horse coming up the road to the villa sounded outside and the prince was distracted, “That must be your father.”

“It’s just past the time he’s been getting home.”

“We may have to put the crown on him,” Oberyn stated getting up, so he didn’t have to disturb his retired household, as he went to let Ned in, “If the Fat King’s going to have him doing all the work anyway.”

His paramour shook her head at his antics, but went back to her stitchwork.

Tyene was working on the last dress she would wear for the tourney week as well. It was the day when every girl hoped to be crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty, of course. Sansa hadn’t much investment in the tournament this time around, but she was excited to have a new friend who enjoyed the same things she did.

She was starting off the week in her favorite dress. It wasn’t new, it wouldn’t be the first time anyone had seen it, but it was a perfect dress for a tourney in her father’s name. He would approve the practicality of not wearing a brand new dress on the first day, when many were arriving and tired.

The second and third day would be a lavender dress with white accents, and a midnight blue dress with a gold star pattern, respectively. They wouldn’t stay long those days, so the dresses would be simple, practical, and easily finished tomorrow. Her father was just getting in now; he didn’t have all day to sit at a tourney like the king, as there was a kingdom to run.

On the fourth day, Margery was to be announced as the Queen Incumbent officially, so Sansa had thought up a light grey dress, with green and gold, alternating underskirts, and green and gold stitching. It wouldn’t steal any of the woman’s clout, but it would definitely proclaim her support of the new Queen. She had no interest in making enemies of the Reach.

Days five and six would be two more practical days. Sansa had found a lovely peach sheer fabric, and a red bodice and skirt, that would go well together. Then, she’d wear the one outfit that she worried would be too bold, but she’d already bought the materials.

Earlier in the day, Sansa found a beautiful shimmering silver pattern, lighter than her first dress of Essosi materials, with weirwood leaves of red silk stitched in a lovely pattern like wind blowing across it. Then, she’d found three wreaths of silk winter roses. Taking the three apart, she thought there would be enough to line the shoulders in some fashion, as well as the waist, of her envisioned dress.

The poor girl behind the counter had turned to see who was admiring her work and Sansa honestly felt guilty. She'd taken one look at Sansa and Arya, the younger who had just wandered over, and their wolves, and almost started crying as she thought they would take offense. Knowing the love story for what it was, Sansa had smiled and asked to purchase the lot, citing that she would like to make a tribute dress to her Aunt Lyanna.

Arya didn't know the whole story, but when she looked up at Sansa with admiration shining in her grey eyes… It felt like their talk atop Winterfell. Yes, they had been getting along so much more in this lifetime, but Sans had missed that connection. Arya loved her, but that had been the first moment the younger girl seemed to realize being a lady and being strong weren't opposites.

Her only nerves about wearing such a dress was her father's reaction.

The man was dragging himself into the villa and Oberyn's arm around his shoulder might have been holding up more weight then either wanted to admit. Ned's eyes sparkled when he spotted his pile of kids before the fireplace, unaware of the world. He managed to return Sansa's smile, before sinking into a seat at the small table next to the fire where a plate had been left out for him.

"I'm so sorry to just get here now," The Stark patriarch started to say, "Having all the kids with you, so unexpectedly…"

"Hush your mouth," Ellaria insisted, "Our nieces and nephews are free to come and go as they please."

"Gods, we're never going to see Arya again," Sansa muttered.

Oberyn snickered.

Ned smiled at her again, "I'll admit, details were vague from Septa Mordane. What in the name of the old gods happened?"

"Petyr Baelish assaulted Sansa."

The rest of the party startled and looked down at Jon, finding that something had roused him from sleep. He started to quietly extricate himself from Arya's grip to rise and join them.

"I thought we agreed 'accosted' was the better word?"

"You suggested such," Jon corrected, "I never agreed."

"Bring her to a room, dear," Ellaria insisted to Jon, before waving Oberyn forward to grab Bran, "You'll all stay here tonight."

From his time on Dorne, Ned Stark knew better than to argue with a Dornish woman and simply offered his thanks. He wasn't really sure he could make it back to the apartments anyway. Leaving his emptied plate, Ned went to sit next to Sansa, who, ever courteous, introduced him to her new friend, Tyene.

"A pleasure, my lady," His gaze swung down to Sansa, "What exactly happened with Baelish?"

"Well, he called out for Mother," Sansa admitted, "Then grabbed me by the arm. Jon moved to defend me, then Prince Oberyn and the Sand Snakes arrived. He claims he's to marry Aunt Lysa."

"Is he now?" Ned hadn't heard any such thing. He'd inquire to both his wife and sister by law about such information. Yohn might also have details that his daughter of five and ten wasn't privy to.

"That was the claim," Jon assured him as he came back in with Oberyn and Ellaria.

Ned hummed, taking in the dress Sansa was making, "This is lovely, darling. For the first day of the tourney?"

"For the last," Sansa admitted, "Starting it was just too tempting."

"That's all the fun and excitement of tourneys!"

Ned smiled at Oberyn's daughter, "We had to go all the way to Dorne to find a woman that could keep up with you, Sansa."

"Not a bad place to find a husband, either," Oberyn suggested, "If you're so inclined."

"I am so sick of saying this," Her father hissed, surprising Sansa, "But she has not even flowered yet. You leave my baby be."

That's when the symptoms Sansa had been having registered to her time warped mind. Quite frankly, a moonblood had just been one less thing to worry about, but it was about that time. Sansa hoped this was just a stomach ailment.

"Oh, Ned, she's five and ten," Ellaria waved him off, "At least let the girl shop around."

Jon gagged.

And Sansa giggled with Tyene.

"Well, I risked falling off a horse to deliver this news myself. We best get on with it," Ned passed a parchment, sealed with the King's crest, to Oberyn, "As of a mere few hours ago, Tywin Lannister and Gregor Clegane have been found guilty of Elia Martell's death and were sent to the black cells. They await their transport to Dorne for judgement."

It was a good thing the children had been moved to rooms, because Oberyn Martell let loose a mighty cry, scooping her father into a tight embrace. All three ladies cheered and Jon stood to be embraced by both men. Justice had been a long time coming for the Dornish princess and Sansa was happy to see it through in this time.

Especially without the cost of Oberyn's life.

After the excitement died down, they all descended into a conversation about the transport of both back to Dorne. Where her father had already started making plans in his head to find a temporary Master of Coin, Oberyn dismissed the idea. The prince was content to let both sit in the black cells, as he would personally be the one to administer justice in Dorne. Apparently he had no plans to leave them in the Capital without as many allies as possible.

Sansa was warmed by that, but it also made her curious. What would have happened, if she'd made friends with the Dornish, instead of Baelish, originally? It didn't really matter anymore, but it was thought provoking.

Oberyn showed off the jewelry set he'd purchased her to go with the dress she was working on, and Sansa was surprised when her father got emotional. From his sweet wolf, to the world's red wolf, he told her. That made her smile.

"That reminds me," Oberyn stated, as they were all getting ready to make for beds, "You'll have to forgive an old man his distraction, Sansa. You were telling me about Lady's name!"

Ned laughed, "Of course she was. Well, couldn't be a better day for it."

"What in the seven hells are you on about, Ned?"

"Ask the girl. I'll see you all tomorrow."

Her father felt no shame in closing his door and leaving her to the Red Viper. Sansa stuck her tongue out at the wood childishly, making Jon laugh as he disappeared into his room as well. Tyene got him back, just a bit, when she winked at him just before her own door shut, making her brother go red as Sansa's hair.

That left her standing in the hallway with Oberyn and Ellaria. The prince raised a brow at her, the curiosity etched into the sun worn lines of his face. And Sansa couldn't lie to him.

"Well… When I was little, I didn't quite understand the difference between a Queen and a High Princess Incumbent, so I used to always say that my favorite queen was Elia Martell," Sansa admitted, face flush at remembering a time when she was that little and naive, "I must have made my mother tell me the story of the maiden, blessed by the sun, who could walk among vipers and none would bite her, at least a thousand times."

Oberyn smiled gently at her, his eyes warm.

"I loved the idea of a woman, who was offered the chance to become a legendary warrior," Sansa glanced downward with a shrug, "And who chose to be a lady, who chose another option… Well, hence, Lady's name."

"My niece, Rhaenys, she went by Rhaen, actually," Oberyn started, surprising Sansa, even as his hand found her cheek, "She was a wild adventurer. She wanted to be a travelling bard, like Rhaegar… You would have been the daughter that my sister always wanted."

The words warmed her. Sansa went to bed, snuggled next to Arya, with a warm feeling in her stomach. It felt like she had Elia Martell's blessing.


	3. Chapter 3

Apparently Elia Martell's blessing came with stomach aches, head pain, fatigue, and bloody, sticky thighs and small clothes. The dawn confirmed it, no stomach ailment would take her. Despite how excited she had been the previous night to stay with the Dornish, it was very much inconvenient to be away from all of her supplies. They would have bought her a chance at hiding this, at least for a while longer, until she had a plan for herself.

Of course, she hadn't planned on Arya waking up and seeing her in such a state. Bless her little sister, the she wolf took one look at her small clothes, gasped in general terror, and went tearing from the room with yelps about getting help.

Sansa grabbed a guest robe from the wall and ran after her sister 

Arya hit the main room, where the others were just rousing. She took one look around, where her father and Jon were sitting at the table preparing to break their fast, and Ellaria was chatting with the cook. Oberyn was lighting his first pipe of the day to see him through their Small Council meeting later, but the young girl cared nothing about that, only that he'd talked about his Maester training the night before.

"You have to come quick, it's Sansa!" Arya shouted, grabbing hold of his arms and pulling with all her weight, though she had no chance of moving the Red Viper, "She's bleeding! She could be dying! You have to…"

In the same breath that all of them started to get concerned, they paused when Sansa tore around the corner, eyes rolling at her sister, "I am not dying, Arya! Let him go and come get dressed."

"You're bleeding from…"

"It's not an announcement for all Seven Kingdoms, Arya!"

Oberyn was confused until he locked eyes with Sansa and she flushed the color of her hair, "Oh… Ellaria, darling, I believe this is more your area of expertise."

"I should say so," The woman chuckled, "Come, Arya, dear. You sister is fine. I'll explain it to you, while we get her settled."

The girl furrowed her brow and asked all sorts of questions as they left. Oberyn chuckled, as he'd already gone through this three times, though never had it been so lively. He knew Obara and Nymeria would get a kick out of it when they managed to drag themselves up.

Looking over to the table, he saw that Ned was white as Ghost, and his nephew looked confused. The prince had no idea what this type of conversation looked like in the North, or what the boy knew, as he took a seat at the table with his pipe, "She flowered."

"Oh," Jon nodded, then it seemed the information sunk in, " _ Oh.  _ That's umm… Lovely?"

Oberyn laughed, "Well, don't know how true that'll be when you're living with the cramps and moods. At least until she gets married." Both were quiet and the Red Viper finally seemed to place their pensiveness, "She's your first girl to flower. Robb, Theon, Jon… I'm sure they were a very different experience."

Ned looked utterly forlorn, "She's only five and ten."

"Perfect age for it, really."

"It always seemed so far away," Ned huffed, "Cat said before we left the North that she was praying every night that she'd flower, become a woman, but it always seemed so far off; someday soon."

"Today is that day, my friend."

"I have to write Cat… Old gods curse it all, she was protected by having not flowered."

"What do you mean, Father?"

Jon hadn't called him that for a week after he'd told the boy the truth. It had killed something in Ned, as he'd always be a father to Jon. Once he took it back up again, they'd settled into a peaceful time in King's Landing, despite the Quiet Wolf's exhaustion and new position, in these last few months.

"Well… Robert has remarked on Sansa's looks several times, but he won't wait very long to be married again," Ned sat back, "I had hoped that, maybe, someone might take her fancy at the tournament, or elsewhere, before this happened."

"You should tell her that, once she's dressed."

He nodded at Jon, the young man was right.

"I know she said it wasn't an announcement for the Seven Kingdoms, but Ned…"

"I know, Obie… She brings three of the seven to any marriage."

"Four with the West," Jon commented without thinking.

"What?!" Both men startled in unison.

Cursing, Jon turned sheepish, but he couldn't lie his way out of it at that point, "Well, who did you think smuggled Lord Tyrion and the youngest out to Winterfell?"

Ned stared at him, mouth agape, "Sansa?"

"Arya and I helped."

"You could have been killed!" Oberyn started, before Ned even could.

"They were innocent children!" Jon insisted, setting his uncle with an even look, "Just like my sister. They deserved for someone to try and save them."

Oberyn grimaced, knowing it had been a coin toss. Varys had sent his niece and nephew with two servants to be smuggled to Jon Connington. One party found the Mountain and the other escaped. He couldn't deny his nephew's valantry in doing what the youngest Targaryen son did for the legitimized Lannister children. 

"How?"

"The gate at the back of the Godswood," Jon confessed to his father, "The wolves took them, so we could make an appearance."

Suddenly the Warden of the North had tears in his eyes, but he smiled at Jon, "I do not know when my children started growing up, but I do not approve."

"We never do," Oberyn remarked.

The Quiet Wolf sighed, "There has always been a plan to put Theon in Pyke. She brings five, if you count the Iron Islands."

They all saw the writing on the wall. Nine territories of Westeros and Sansa had the ear of the majority. Robert wouldn't be able to afford to let anyone else have Sansa, if he found out. Making an enemy of the Reach would be a drop in the bucket, when he had the Stormlands and Crownlands. He'd already spurned Dorne by justifying Elia's ends for so long and the bad blood between the Reach and Dorne would protect him from them allying against him.

Olenna would never work with Oberyn after Willas' injury. Not at all. Her pride was too hurt by the accident.

Ned growled, "I promised her, not even six months back, that we had time before we had to discuss betrothals seriously."

"That was before you came south, Ned," Oberyn sighed, "She's the most eligible maiden in Westeros. From the rumors I've heard, every knight coming to the tourney already sought her hand."

"At least let her know suitable options," Jon suggested.

They all quieted at hearing the ladies return.

Ellaria led Sansa and Arya back to the guest room, after summoning a warm bath for the oldest Stark daughter. She quickly explained to Arya how moonblood worked, before she left to get Sansa supplies. Thrilled at the chance to clean up, Sansa took her clothes off quickly.

"I'm sorry I embarrassed you."

It was quiet and unlike her sister.

"It wasn't that," Sansa confessed, her smile gentle, "I thought maybe I could hide it. At least for a few months."

The linens had been spared the previous night, so Arya flopped back onto the bed, as her sister sunk into warm water, "Why? You always wanted to get married."

"Well," Sansa was scrubbing harshly, as this was no leisurely soak, "I don't have any prospects. Father doesn't need any alliances. It's just…"

The truth was that she didn't know. Cersei was dead, along with Joffrey. She could very well be happily married. But, the first time around, she'd never looked beyond the bastard prince, before she became a traitor's daughter. Her options were unknown to her.

Arya went a different way, "You could marry for love."

"And what would happen, then, if Father did need an alliance," Sansa demanded, "I will gladly marry for duty, so that you don't have to."

"I don't want you to have to."

"Father will see to it that I'm well taken care of, Arya," She smiled as she rose from the tub to dry off, "I'm the oldest, that's my duty."

The door opened and Tyene came in, with fresh small clothes and a dress for Sansa to borrow. Ellaria carried supplies that she was shocked the Stark knew how to use so quickly, but it meant everyone was ready that much faster.

The purple dress was perfectly serviceable, with sheer sleeves of green. It showed a bit more cleavage then Sansa was used to, but it was modest by Tyene, or even Margery's standards. She was sure her friend had tried to find something she'd be comfortable in.

The older girls did each other's hair, as Ellaria talked Arya through some of the younger girl's fears about marriage and her sister being sold off. The Dornish women were the first to make her feel like this was a day of celebration. In the other timeline it had felt that way from the beginning, with her being betrothed to Joffrey and everyone rejoicing.

Ellaria led them back to the table with a brisk stride, "Well, Sansa, at least it will be gone before the tournament next week."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," She admitted, taking her seat, "That actually makes me feel better."

A mother always seemed to know just what to say.

"I believe it's time for food."

"Thank the gods," Obara offered, where she and Nymeria had managed to join the others. 

"Thank you so much for hosting us, Ellaria."

"It's not hosting amongst family, Ned. Anytime the children want to ride down, let them!"

"It's been boring as hell around here with no kids," Oberyn agreed.

"Well, with the trials over, I'm demanding schedules be made for the Small Council today," Ned hissed, "We can't keep going like this anymore."

"Fair enough. I think you fell off that horse last night, instead of dismounting," Oberyn allowed, "When does the Stick in the Mud arrive?"

"Any day this week. He can’t keep putting it off," Ned huffed, side eyeing Bran, who was on the other side of him, opposed to Jon, "Cat's family from the Riverlands should arrive here too."

His son's utensils clattered to his plate and the boy beamed, "The Blackfish is coming?!"

"Indeed, he's almost here."

Arya perked up at that, "I'm going back North with Dacey, then?"

"Hmm… Yes, in a few months you'll both depart. Uncle Brynden and Uncle Edmure plan to stay until the royal wedding."

Both whooped and hollered, their Dornish family happily cheering the pair on. The wolves had been let outside by the attendants that morning, but they barked happily upon wandering back in at the sound of ruckus. Sansa would live with all the cramps in the world to have the rest of her family so happy.

She was still finishing her food when heat on the side of her head alerted the Red Wolf that attention was on her. Glancing up, she found it to be her father across the table, and arched a weirwood red brow in his direction.

Ned worried his thumbnail for a moment, before forcing himself to start, "Sansa, I know I said there would be time, before we discussed betrothals…"

She didn't seem upset, even as she turned her attention to him fully, "But, Father?"

"Your flowering is to be celebrated, my dear, but it does place us in a different stage of life for you."

"No, I won't let you!" Arya yelled, fist slamming on the table, where she sat between Nymeria and Sansa, "You won't sell off my sister!"

Her father flinched like he'd been struck and Sansa knew instantly that he feared just such an accusation. The Dornish women tried to help at large, but Sansa waved them off. Grabbing Arya by the shoulder, where she'd stood from the table, Sansa turned her so that they were facing one another, "Do you trust me?"

Arya nodded, teary eyed.

"Then we hear father out. It's a discussion, not a contract," Sansa assured her, wiping the fallen tears away, "Alright?"

Arya nodded and sat back down, but her gaze on Ned was apprehensive.

"Arya, I am never going to sell off your sister. I swear," Ned looked to his oldest, "But, Sansa, you are the daughter of Robert's Rebellion. You bring three of the Seven Kingdoms, four with the West, and maybe five with the Iron Islands."

Shocked, she quickly deduced who had been left in the room, "Jon!"

"They treatened me with torture, Sansa. It was unbearable."

Oberyn snorted, "Boy, you lie as poorly as your father."

Jon's head tilted, "Which one?"

Sansa huffed, "Which one didn't successfully lie about your identity, for almost two decades?"

"Touche."

"To get us back on point," Ned redirected, not wanting to discuss his grand deception, "You bring five of the nine territories of Westeros, Sweet Wolf. You have more power than the Queen Incumbent and many are already seeking your hand. Now you're eligible to marry."

"When will you make the announcement, Father?"

Ned cursed Robert for ruining this moment, "Sansa, despite his betrothal, the King has expressed much interest in you…"

"Well, that's not happening."

"You tell them, Arya!" Jon agreed.

Oberyn pounded on the table, "As the Little Wolf says!"

Ned and Sansa both rolled their eyes, then wound up grinning at one another over the exchange.

"Having flowered and being unbetrothed, you're vulnerable," Ned acknowledged, "It would be best to hold off the announcement until after the wedding, preferably until you're betrothed."

"Hence our discussion of options," Sansa allowed, though a case of nerves lit her spine. Suddenly King's Landing was just as dangerous as it always was.

Oberyn opened his mouth to say something, but found her father raised a hand to stop him.

"I respect the brilliance of your option," Ned assured, "But there are others. Let me discuss them first."

The Martell sighed, "I suppose if it were one of mine, I'd feel the same."

It struck Sansa suddenly. He wanted her to marry Aegon. She would be the next Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. 

Varys would be thrilled. And, though she wasn't committed to making The Red Priestess correct, it would answer why she was sent back in time. But, she'd had that offer once. Having seen the Dornish prince in her dreams, Sansa knew that he was much a golden prince in appearance, like Joffrey. And she wouldn't willingly saddle herself to make the same mistake twice.

He was also Jon's brother, and had been raised by the Martells, and apparently the Gold Company. She knew nothing of his personality or character. At the same time, fear was seldom logical.

"The options you approve of, Father?"

"Well, let is begin in the North," Ned was trying not to fidget, "The Karstarks, Umbers, and Bolton's would all be acceptable."

No chance in hell. Not with Robb in the North. He could manage the North in this life. She needed to make alliances for the Long Night.

"From the Riverlands there are the Freys…"

"Don't you dare suggest such a vile thing to that child," Ellaria hissed, "I'll dispose of you myself!"

"Fair enough," Ned raised his hands, "Forget them."

And without the War of the Five Kings, Sansa knew, "We have the Riverlands, anyway."

"True enough, though Sansa, your Aunt Lysa's hold on the Vale is weak, and it would only become weaker if she marries Baelish," He sighed.

"Who would strengthen our connections there?" Sansa knew, but she couldn't justify her knowledge.

"Yohn Royce is looking to marry off his son and daughter," Ned acknowledged, "And it's a good option, but I'm hoping to engage his daughter to Robb."

"Hmm," Sansa acknowledged, considering the option, but if Robb's marriage was already taking care of it, she would need to look elsewhere.

"Renly is still unmarried," Ned noted and even Sansa raised an eyebrow at that suggestion, "He's going to need an heir at some point!"

"Might as well call little Shireen his heir," Oberyn scoffed.

“I think you all like to forget how young he still is,” Ned sighed, "In the Reach, Lord Willas needs a wife…"

"Don't bother," Oberyn dismissed, "Went to visit him on my way up. He's nesting with a pretty Frey girl…"

"Roslin," Ellaria supplied.

"Wedding should be announced after the royal wedding," Oberyn continued, "So the old witch has time to make it back to High Garden."

"House Tarly would also be acceptable," Ned proposed, "Dickon is a strapping young lad by all accounts."

Oberyn grumbled.

Ellaria rolled her eyes, "He means that could be beneficial. It would limit the Tyrell's power in the Reach."

That much was true.

"I've also considered you as a wife for Theon, as eventually he will be expected to take back the Iron Islands."

"But they will always resist him, if he doesn't take a wife from the families there. Maybe Blacktyde, or the Harlaws."

"How do you know all this?" Arya demanded around a mouthful.

"I listen when Mother talks."

The two bickered for a few moments, but it actually made Sansa settle. Arya was calming down. She didn't want to upset her sister.

"May I have the floor, Lord Hand."

Ned rolled his eyes, "Alright, let's hear it, Prince Oberyn."

"Thank you," He winked at her father audaciously and Sansa was surprised when his face was serious as he turned to her. Something told her that he'd been preparing this speech for a long time, "Sansa, your father is right. You are the daughter of Robert's Rebellion."

That was not where she expected him to begin.

"Years ago, when your father was in Dorne, after Elia was killed…"

"Perhaps Bran and Arya shouldn't…"

"It's okay, Father. You can tell them."

Ned waved Oberyn to continue at Jon's insistence.

"He had two babes with him, by the time he arrived in Sunspear," Oberyn sighed, "One was Jon Targaryen, first born son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark…"

"No!" Arya insisted, getting upset again, as she pushed away from the table, "You're my brother!"

Jon crossed the table quickly to kneel before her, "I will always be your brother. And I will run through anyone who claims otherwise."

That was how Sansa wound up seated beside Jon, who had Arya in his lap, clinging to his neck, and Bran hovering at his side possessively. She nodded for the younger Martell brother to continue.

"And the other babe was Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of His Name, and the first born son of Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen. At that time, only your brother, Robb, had been born, but there was a discussion of betrothing you to Aegon, even then."

"You couldn't have both his secret identity and a betrothal."

"True. But… Children, you all have to remember that at Harrenhal, no one quite knew how far gone the Mad King was...I don't like to give Tywin Lannister credit for much, but he contained Aerys and ran all seven kingdoms like he wore the crown," Oberyn admitted, "We didn't know, at large, that he was the Mad King, until your grandfather was killed."

"Rhaegar Targaryen lived on Dragonstone; that's where his mother ran," Sansa actually put that together.

"No one expected… Rhaegar couldn't have predicted the hysteria that Robert used, justified only because he had been exiled to Dragonstone, and didn't know how bad the man had gotten," Ned allowed, "My father couldn't either. Tywin… I'd love to be in that confessional. Know why he swore to end the dragons."

"Me too," Oberyn agreed.

"Aunt Lyanna was married and in Dorne, when he took your sister hostage."

"Even Rhaegar Targaryen couldn't win a war on two fronts," Oberyn sighed, tears in his eyes, "He… He was trying to fight both Robert and his own father. But, when he got word of what Aerys did to the Starks, he was already discussing marrying the next Winter Rose to Aegon, as a form of reparation."

"Lyanna didn't speak to him for weeks, I'm told," Ned whispered, "When they first… She'd just told them about you and they feared she would lose you. Then she… Turned to ice."

Sansa reached over to hold Jon's hand. They'd all heard the expression a million times, but it had more meaning here. 

There was another thought behind all of this though. Her father had been acting as a King, he'd just never had the title. His lords only swore fealty to him. She was destined, before birth, to be the next Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Sansa…"

Realizing she'd started gazing at her father, lost in thought, and the maiden kissed by fire returned her attention back to Oberyn.

"I won't lie to you. Aegon has been told you would be the perfect wife, since he was old enough to understand how marriage worked," The Red Viper chuckled, "You can feel free to mess with him a bit, make the little shit work for it…"

"Oberyn!"

"No, Father's right!" Nymeria cheered, "Bring him to his pretty little knees, Sansa!"

"That's right, Sansa," Obara joined in, "You make him earn all four of those seven kingdoms, and the Iron Islands."

Tyene agreed and soon all the Sand Snakes were cheering on her hounding of their cousin. Ellaria tried to stop them, but gave up when Arya joined in.

Sansa waved them off, "He brings Dorne and the Gold Company?"

"Earlier this week, I received confirmation. The Gold Company will take Dragonstone, as the steward Stannis left behind is actually my man," Oberyn confessed, "And Aegon has confirmed that he is in alliance with his aunt in Essos."

That was one hell of an alliance. They would be… They could take back the Seven Kingdoms and the most bloodshed would be to put Theon in place.

The Reach was greedy, not suicidal. And Stannis was about to lose favor with an all but dead Robert. Even more than their usual.

"He knows I would be his best option," Sansa cited, "But, does he want to marry me?"

"Yes, but I know that is a pie crust promise, coming from me."

He wasn't wrong.

"He is the new Sword of the Morning, Sansa, that isn't a ruse," Her father finally jumped back into the conversation, "Lord Edric decided that Dawn needed a wielder of a new line, as House Dayne will never have another Arthur."

She turned to face him completely, "Do you wish for me to marry him, Father?"

"His reputation, no matter the name, has been exemplary in both Dorne and Essos," Ned told her, "And he's said to be the next Jaime Lannister, when it comes to sword work."

"That's not what I asked."

Arya snorted and suddenly shifted from Jon's neck to Sansa's, "I think he's avoiding the question."

"You wolves, so emotional."

The imitation of Cat by his oldest girl was uncanny and the Hand of the King chuckled, "I can feel your mother's presence… I want you to be happy, Sansa. Anything else I can live with."

The words ripped at her soul. 

Wasn't that what he'd wanted for all his children during her first chance? To give them a choice, to make them happy, even at the expense of himself?

Well, not this time.

"I am Sansa Stark of the North, but you're all right. I am the daughter of Robert's Rebellion and my mother is Catelyn Tully," She took a deep breath, "And our weapons are marriages. This one will save thousands of lives across the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, when any other option would bleed us dry, if not in lives, then in terms of wealth."

"As the Master of Coin, I will vouch that this is true on a fundamental level."

"As the Hand, I have to second that," Her father's voice held both concession and admiration, as if somehow resigned to her new stage in life. She'd felt trapped as a child for so long after his death, but in this life, it was as if he finally saw her for her age… Maybe even for the Queen of the North she had to become once Jon bent the knee to Dany.

"Then, I accept. He and I will marry." 

Suddenly she didn't know what to do next, because she hadn't ceased being the one in control, not since she became Queen of the North. Even coming back in time, she'd just… Done what she had to, so everyone stayed safe.

But, now she had another person she had to consider.

"Oberyn, you're going to be asking Arthur Dayne how I got my name personally."

"Now, now, it's the right thing to do," Oberyn assured him, "He's a good boy, she's a good girl, we took the Seven Kingdoms. Onto the grandchildren."

"Kiss my arse, cunt," Ned growled, "I want the Pact of the Seventh."

"You know what the First Men called the Pact of the Seventh?" Oberyn asked as he moved to grab a small vial out of a cabinet "Blessing of the By Laws, according to Aegon."

Ned took it and gave him a look.

"You had this one dreaming of being a southern lady," Oberyn dismissed, "I had that one dreaming of being the Knight of the Laughing Tree. Don't get cold feet on me now!"

"She's just a gir…" Ned started to say and slowly every eye in the room shifted to him, "As of this morning…"

"Alright," Elia called the room to order, "You two have Small Council." She pointed at Sansa and Tyene, "And you two have tea with the Queen Incumbent."

"Hoorah," Tyene offered.

"Oh uck," Sansa muttered when her stomach rolled.

"The motion of the horse helps."

"Really?"

"Do you have a mare?"

"Yes." 

"You'll bond."

"Sansa, darling, you're about to get into a betrothal with Griff Dayne."

"How are you going to manage that, Father?"

"Well, Jon's mother, of course."

All the kids looked at each other for a few seconds.

Oberyn finally just supplied, "Ashara Dayne. Honestly, keep up."

Ned walked out of the villa before taking a deep breath. He didn't laugh until he reached the horses with Oberyn.

"That's bound to keep even Sansa going for a few minutes."

"I give it two maximum."

They didn't talk again, though they tore through the crowds with a bit more purpose. Loud discussions generated more gossip, after all. They needed the roses stirred up a bit.

Olenna had a day to day shot at living to drive them all crazy. As long as the girl got a crown and made history, well, the Redwyne knew that empires fell every day. Her legacy would live to see the throne again.

If Robert had proven one thing, it was that he could produce children. If that was even the way the Queen of Thorns decided to go. The Pact of the Seventh was no joke.

Still, there was time before they had to address such issues. For now, Ned was desperate to get some protection on Sansa. Though he'd never fully understood Ashara and Arthur's relationship, he'd also never compare them to Jaime and Cersei, because Ashara had been lovely and good of heart. Their son, Edric, was the Lord of House Dayne currently, but he'd had greyscale as a child and would never have children due to the area it affected.

Ned would compare the loyalty of House Dayne to House Martell, similar to that of House Reed to him. Especially since Howland's grandchildren were in a similar situation. The Reed name would only continue through those who remembered them. Like House Dayne.

"I got tired of this discussion last week, Martell!"

"Not my fault you decided to be a right cunt on the issue, Stark!"

"Just have them wait!"

They tore through the Red Keep, toward the Small Council chamber, not quite yelling, but they weren't hiding the discussion. Their horses were abandoned almost as soon as they hit the ground, to stable hands, to further the illusion that this was an ongoing discussion.

They screwed with one another until they reached the hallway, where they'd be heard.

"She is five and ten, not an infant! They are asking for a contact, not a date!"

"I swore I wouldn't…"

"House Dayne demands satisfaction, Stark!" Oberyn did shout then, right as they entered the room, "You couldn't hide under your snow forever!"

"What is going on here?" Robert demanded first, though Renly looked just as interested. Varys was impassive as ever, though Ned was sure that he already knew everything; he always did. The Grand Maester didn't seem to give a damn.

"Sansa can't replace Ashara."

"No, but she can give their new Sword of the Morning heirs. She can secure their future," The Master of Coin insisted, "All they want is a contact and all I want is Edric off my back. Stretch it out until she's twenty for all I care."

Ned snorted as he took up his usual seat next to Robert, "Five years, sure; he'd have more bastards than this one."

Robert shrugged off the slight easy enough. No one would ever say it wasn't true.

"Look, give me your requirements, but I'm not the one who took their other heir."

"That wasn't…" The Quiet Wolf trailed off. It was much more useful to let the others fill in their own blanks.

"We can still legitimize…"

"No! They're not having him."

Robert shifted, truly appraising his friends, "So, he is, then?"

"You of all people know I won't answer that," Ned insisted like he always had, "But… I guess I'll say that, if I can't marry Sansa into House Baratheon, then House Dayne would be my second choice."

Renly smiled gently at him, "Then, Ned, betroth that girl. She's not in need of marriage in under six months. It's just a contact."

The King sighed at the reminder, "Boy's not wrong."

"Alright, alright," Ned huffed, "He can court her at the tournament. Pending the fact that they don't hate one another, they'll be betrothed… Assuming Sansa flowers in the next year, they'll marry after her name day of six and ten."

"Done."

Sansa shook her head as she woke up. Their afternoon tea with Margery wasn't until later in the afternoon, so she'd stolen a nap. Shaking off her dream of the Small Council, and the knowledge that it was now official, her betrothal was all but announced, she looked up at Arya.

The girl was in a ruff set of small armor, worn over her favorite grey tunic, the first one Sansa made her, actually. She looked to have been sparring, "Obarra says that if you're going to drop us off at the Tower, we have to leave now."

That was just as well. Their father was discussing a schedule today and Sansa wanted a proper dinner with her family. All of her things were packed from shopping the day before, along with a few potions to get her through this moonblood from Prince Oberyn.

It was cute that, when they entered the Hand's apartments, both Septa Mordane and Jaime were fluttering about them. They got scolded for being gone so long and making both worry, though the younger kids were quick to be forgiven by the Golden Lion, as they showed him their new knowledge of Dornish fighting styles. Once they were settled with their wolves, Sansa and Jon took off with Tyene and the older Sand Snakes for tea.

Ghost and Lady disappeared into the garden. They never approached anyone, but they were ever hidden in the shadows, waiting for trouble to strike.

"Sansa, dear, are you alright?"

"Alright? Margery, what are you talking about?"

"Well…"

Olenna, never afraid to speak out, butted in, "Your father was having a shouting match with the barbaric cunt. About betrothing you, as of this morning."

"Oh, I assure you, it wasn't just this morning," Sansa waved off their concern, put on though it was, "Father wants to wait for me to flower. House Dayne wants reparation. I do so wish he'd get on with it."

The maiden Redwyne laughed, "Blessed is the woman who accepts her wedded duty, my dear. Your mother raised you right."

"Family, Duty, Honor. The order is very particular."

"There's the Tully in her!"

"My mother always said my families were on opposite ends of the water sign," Sansa giggled, "The wolves are fierce and emotional, while the trout are smooth and steady."

They descended into talk about the world they lived in and how often men forgot the roles that mothers played in it. It was a pleasant enough exchange, with Sansa finishing three of her dresses for the tourney. The roses seemed thrilled that she was about to be betrothed, undoubtedly knowing her as Margery's main rival, if the rest of the kingdom did.

As the light began to disappear, they all started to make their excuses to leave. The Rose of Highgarden asked Sansa to be at the docks when they greeted Stannis and Shireen the next day, so she agreed. Jon commented on their way back to the Tower of the Hand that Olenna hadn't looked quite sold on her being betrothed to House Dayne.

"Well, I don't know what else to tell her."

"Let's ask Father."

He arrived home sooner than he had been, but not at the normal meal time, so their dinner was still late. Training was proving quite a bit for Bran and Arya, particularly on top of their major discoveries that morning and the emotions that went with them, so as soon as they ate, both retired. That left her father sitting with Jaime on one side of the table, while Jon and Sansa took the other.

"Olenna's too smart. She knows who you were born to be. And I may be honor bound, but she wouldn't believe I'd short you for sentiment."

"If she's fully committed to the Stags…" Jaime trailed off.

"She's committed to her granddaughter and family."

"What about telling her the truth?" Sansa put forth and when all attention turned to her, she elaborated, "I'm not talking about details, but if they knew a dragon, with a dragon, was coming back? I think she'd be prepared to bend the knee."

"Robert is going nuts about the girl having a child and birthing dragons," Ned admitted, thinking the option over, "And Oberyn confirmed she sent two of them to Dorne, for you and Aegon."

"I have a dragon?"

"Yes," Her father huffed, "You'll meet him when we go south, for Sansa's wedding."

“I have a dragon!”

“Use it well,” Ned grinned, before returning to their previous discussion, “I’ll deal with Olenna. I don’t know where or when, but I will.”

Sansa went to sleep that night, curious as all get out. She wanted to know about Olenna, and her new betrothed. So, after the dreams she’d had during her nap, she wasn’t surprised when that was exactly what she saw.

The first thing she dreamed about was an island. It housed a huge, dark castle, and she spotted a disgusting amount of ships sailing toward the docks. They were received with no problems and a dark man seemed to be warmly received by the older, well dressed man waiting for them.

“Jon!”

“Morton!”

“Can’t believe you made it all the way to Essos, only to come back to this hell hole.”

“The little prince is going to do great things,” He dismissed.

So, this was Jon Connington. He was docking the Gold Company on Dragonstone, a spitting distance from King’s Landing. Sansa knew that Robert was going to lose his mind.

The dream changed, something almost like a ripple along water flashing before her eyes, and then what she was looking at changed. Jon Conningon, and it was still hard for Sansa to remember that this would have been the man from which Jon got his name, not Jon Arryn, was standing beside the same teenager she’d seen with the Dragon Queen. Aegon was packing up his white war horse, probably to ride for King’s Landing.

He was handsome, with his silver blonde hair tied up in the same knot that her Jon preferred, as his hair grew out, and shining silver armor. Dawn was strapped to his side and there was a lavender banner for house Dayne on the horse's flank. There were also several other swords strapped to his horse. His build was similar to that of Jaime or her father, not hulking like some of the North or the Mountain, nor was he small like Littlefinger.

His back was to her in the vision, so she couldn't form an opinion on the handsomeness of his face.

"Remember to guard your back," Jon seemed to be mid lecture, "And for the love of the gods, keep your head down. No one knows we're here yet, so look tired; like you rode hard from Dorne!"

"I know, Jon. I'll be fine."

He turned and Sansa froze. He looked like Jon. Just like Jon, in the face at least. Their coloring couldn't have been more different, but their actual shape was… It was a bit haunting.

"Of course you will," Jon Connington didn't bother to hide how choked up he was, not when he thought them alone, "You're off to woo your Winter Rose and take back the Seven Kingdoms."

Aegon embraced him for a long while, "I'll tell your namesake you send your regards."

"You do that," Jon said when he finally let go, "And tell Jaime…" He sighed, something that Sansa knew intuitively that he'd been holding in for almost two decades, "I don't know what to tell him. Just say something."

"I'll manage," The teen promised, "See you when I see you, Ser Connington."

"Until next time, Your Grace."

The vision rippled again. Suddenly she was in the middle of a battlefield. Sansa looked around for someone she recognized, not knowing where she was, until she spotted Wyman Manderly and followed him.

He wound up leading her through a bunch of soldiers and into a war room, the squire at his side chatting incessantly, "It's working, sir! The Young Wolf, he's beating them back!"

"He's a Stark, boy, that's what they do when traitorous krakens try to take the North!"

They kept moving into New Castle, through the bustling halls, and into a great room, with maps and weapons adorning every wall; a war room. At the helm of it all was Robb, her big brother, looking like he must have when fighting the War of the Five Kings. Only this time, Theon was at his side and showed no signs of going anywhere.

That was Sansa's thought anyway, caught in a sentimental moment, until the vision rippled again. Suddenly they were in the courtyard at Winterfell and Robb was standing with a pretty girl on his arm, as he watched their mother, Rickon, and Theon ride away. It took Sansa a moment to understand.

The girl was gorgeous. She had dark hair and was pale. Her dress was black and white, with silver and bronze accents. The look on her face was… Nervous and excited, all at the same time. Sansa realized quickly that this must be Ysilla Royce.

Theon and Robb would successfully defend the North and then… Well, their father would name him the new Warden of the North probably, even if a year hadn't passed. Then Theon would go to?

Their mother was coming, so they would be going together, and bringing Rickon. Where would… King's Landing.

If the Iron Born rebelled, that would push Robert or Aegon into making them bend the knee. They would be looking to put him on the throne in Pyke. She knew instantly that would be the next phase of their journey. Probably even before the Night King came.

The vision rippled again and this time her father was kneeling before the heart tree in King's Landing. It didn't look like any of his children or the wolves were with him.

"Stark."

He rose from his knees easily enough to greet Olenna.

"What is this madness about you marrying off the born queen to House Dayne?"

"I have history…"

"Don't mouth off to me, boy. You're still too young for it," She snapped, moving to sit on the bench, "You may be the Quiet Wolf, but I need to speak with the Honorable Ned Stark."

"Alright, what do you want to know," Ned asked, before muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'You mean old hag,' under his breath.

Olenna cut her eyes, but didn't say anything, "I want the truth. I've got a grandchild about to marry your best friend. Tell me what House Tyrell is walking into."

"Hmm… Do you trust Robert to bend the knee, if he were facing down a dragon? To save his wife and children, and to protect the Stormlands?"

"No, not stuck as far in the past as he and his pride are."

"Stannis would be much the same."

"What are you saying, Ned?"

"I think that's the first time you've called me that since Brandon died."

"Answer the question."

"Have you asked for the Pact of the Seventh?"

"While trying to give my granddaughter a crown, you bet your fur covered arse."

Her father and Sansa both grinned at the same time. Sansa had never heard of the Pact of the Seventh before today, but she was quickly putting together what it was. By Laws could kill a groom and demand another, if the first was unworthy. 

In the North, she'd grown up hearing jokes about girls marrying into certain families, saying things like "He's an urchin, but his little brother's cute." And now she knew what they'd been implying. Of course, that hadn't been offered at either of her weddings, before, but Oberyn had offered up some sort of poison without blinking.

Cersei would have never offered up such a thing, not with Joffrey's proclivities. Sansa realized that Tywin would have. Probably was overjoyed to do so, to put Tommen on the throne instead.

That put things into perspective truly. Petyr hadn’t given Olenna that poison, he had only known about the Pact being made. Most probably suspected what happened at the Purple Wedding, honestly, but Tywin had probably told his daughter that he made no such deal in the betrothal of his grandchild.

“Then, I’m telling you to get the King you want in place at the wedding,” The Lord of Winterfell shrugged.

“And Stannis?”

“At the wedding feast,” Was all her father said, before he locked eyes with Olenna, “You are no longer in this alone. Six of the nine territories of Westeros now guard your back.”

It was smart to just give a number. Olenna's ruffled feathers anywhere that Dorne was concerned was no joke. It was funny that Oberyn mentioned being friends with Willas, but the man's grandmother was still up in arms about the accident.

“Do you think he’ll give her the children she wants?” Olenna asked after a few moments of silence.

Sansa’s father huffed, “I think he’s young. I’m not saying he doesn’t know what he wants, I’m just saying he doesn’t know all he wants. Loras will make sure she’s happy.”

“Hopefully not the way the Lannisters and Targaryens went about things.”

“If you end up with any golden haired great grandchildren, we’ll know what happened.”

Sansa rolled her eyes at their sarcasm. Margery’s wedding night was bound to be an adventure. But, she hoped that Renly gave her all the children she wanted. He would be a much more stable husband, then Robert could ever hope to be.

She woke up with a gasp to the early light of morning. Arya was still asleep on top of her, the Little Wolf of the Stark family wasn’t moving from her side after she’d been betrothed the day before. Sansa thought it was a touching sentiment, but she was also looking forward to the chance to say that Tyrion Lannister was not, in fact, the best of her husbands. 

While she had no illusions about her dreams always bringing good news, Sansa had seen all the people dying to defend the North from the Iron Born, it was also good to know that Robb would be successful. Given a warning, she’d been able to keep him and Theon unified, and her friend, who had risked so much to get her away from Ramsay Snow, her Sea Wolf, would rest on the throne at Pyke.

She’d have to get him a suitable marriage as well. Of course, she knew nothing about Iron Born families at the moment. That was something to research.

For the day of greeting Robert’s brother and niece, Sansa selected an icy blue dress with long silver sleeves that would blow in the wind. Then, she braided the top of her hair into two braids that joined at the back. She wanted to be able to enjoy the wind of Blackwater Bay, as Stannis moved off of his island.

Breaking her fast with her family was always enlightening, as Bran went nuts with reports of the Tully banners being spotted two days out. Arya couldn’t stop talking to Dacey about their trip to She Bear Island and all of the things that she was going to learn there. She had decided against taking the younger children to greet Stannis and Shireen, even though her father suggested it before he departed for the Small Council. Bran and Arya were just going to have to live sparring with Jaime Lannister and their usual lessons with Septa Mordane.

Robert wasn’t attending the Council today, with his brother’s arrival, so Sansa was sure that Ned Stark would be home earlier, and probably have a more productive day. 

Jon and the wolves were ever standing in her guard, as they joined the royal procession toward Blackwater Bay. Knowing the legendary battle here would never take place, Sansa wondered where in the world Bronn was. She had never heard him, or Tyrion, share much of the sellsword’s history to guess, however.

Margery was dressed in a green dress with gold sleeves that were almost identical to Sansa’s. They stayed on each other’s arms the entire time, but when Olenna asked her if she was excited to be named Lady Dayne, it was clear that her conversation with the maiden’s father had already occurred. Sansa confirmed her excitement and nothing else was said on the matter.

Talk of the tourney was incessant as they all waited for the ship to dock. Waiting in the carriage with Margery, Olenna, and one of her Redwyne cousins, who was a few years older than the Queen Incumbent, Sansa did make mention of her Uncle Edmure, who was inbound, being unmarried. Marrying a Redwyne would be a great family to build alliances between the Reach and Riverlands.

Desmera would be perfect for the Riverlands, with her red hair and adorable freckles. Both Olenna and Margery seemed to agree.

When they were finally signalled, Sansa stood between Desmera and Olenna, behind the King and Margery. Shireen was the same age as Rickon and Robin in this time, and her midnight blue eyes kept straying to Sansa behind the royal couple. It wasn’t disrespect, the Stark daughter realized, she was fascinated by her fire red hair.

The Rose of Highgarden noticed and smiled at the girl, extending her hand and leading Shireen over, “I see you’ve noticed my favorite maiden kissed by fire…”

“I’m offended,” Desmera joked.

“Hush,” Margery insisted, “Shireen, this is my very dear friend, Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell.”

“Hello, Lady Shireen,” Sansa smiled at her.

She didn’t know what everyone was so on about. The girl was still lovely, just like she had been at Castle Black. Yes, part of her face was grey, and, yes, maybe her comfort with the disfiguration came from being so close to Sandor, but Shireen didn’t deserve to have people afraid of her. She was only a little girl.

“Hello, Lady Sansa,” Shireen stuttered a bit, but curtsied, “Your hair is beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Leaning down Sansa winked at her, “I assure you it’s just hair, but you’re welcome to touch it, if you like. My brother, Rickon, always enjoyed that.”

Little fingers strummed through her loose strands and soon they were in the gardens of the Red Keep once more. Stannis didn’t love, or even like, the idea of Shireen going with the Queen Incumbent and Sansa, but Robert insisted. So, with her loyal guard Ser Davos, the Baratheon daughter joined them and got rudimentary stitching lessons.

Jon had kept the wolves back from the welcoming party, not wanting to scare her, so the gardens were the first time Shireen saw either Ghost or Lady. It was rustling in the bushes, where she was helping Sansa sew sheer peach sleeves, like what she was currently wearing, onto her peach and red dress, that first drew Shireen's attention. One moment the girl was helping her and the next she’d shot up with a gasp.

Looking over, where Lady was just emerging from the bushes, Sansa turned back to the girl quickly, “It’s quite alright, Shireen. That’s just my direwolf, Lady.”

“You have a wolf?” Shireen demanded, studying the shiny grey she wolf, “You have a wolf!”

Everyone around the garden chuckled.

“Would you like to meet her?”

Shireen gasped and nodded, letting Sansa lead her over to Lady. While it was true that Lady was the smallest of her litter, the direwolf was now taller than Shireen when sitting down. Nervous though the girl was, she bravely put her hand under Sansa’s to reach for the wolf and touched her snout.

“I pet a wolf!” Shireen noted, even as she kept petting Lady, “This is the best day of my life!”

Sansa noticed that Ser Davos had gone through a wide range of emotions from the moment Shireen gasped. At first he’d reached for his sword, before even knowing what the threat was. When Jon put a hand on his arm to halt him, he’d calmed just enough to let the Red Wolf get out an invitation, before his face had been aflame with terror. Finally, he looked so proud and ecstatic that the girl was successful in her endeavor.

She knew that he’d put Melisandre to the sword after she’d burned this girl. Truly, Sansa thought that Shireen was better off with him, then she’d ever be with her father. She’d have to keep the girl close by the night of the wedding.

More rustling alerted them to Ghost coming to see what was happening. Shireen gasped again, “Can I pet that one too? He’s so pretty!”

Jon chuckled from his place next to Ser Davos, “He’s mine, my lady, and he’d be happy to meet you.”

“That makes so much sense,” Shireen said, even as she moved to take his offered hand, blushing the entire way.

It caused a round of laughter to erupt around the garden. 

Everyone thought her brother was pretty and Sansa was still trying to figure out how to look her betrothed in the face. Pretty yes, but also very weird from her perspective.

“Thank you, my lady,” Jon said, kissing Shireen right on her grey little cheek. She stared at him, shocked, but he was already calling Ghost over and not paying a bit of attention. Sansa watched half of Margery’s cousins in the garden fall in love with him.

Ghost, following in his Stark’s example, let the girl pet him, and then promptly started licking her.

That was how Sansa lost her little helper and once more became a solo act, while Shireen was happy to play with the wolves on the ground. She happily went back to their previous conversation, “It’s strange to think that we’ve been in King’s Landing for six months and I still haven’t seen Renly.”

“Well, he’s been working without fail,” Margery noted, “Even Loras hasn’t seen him for more than a…”

She paused and seemed to be considering how to end the sentence, but never let it be said Olenna Tyrell was at a loss for words, “A quick fuck.”

“Grandmother!”

“What?” When Margery nodded to Shireen, the Queen of Thorns only rolled her eyes, “Please, he’s the girl’s uncle. She’s bound to find out. The way I see it, we’re family that much sooner.”

“I like that idea,” Shireen noted.

“See!” The Queen of Thorns winked at her new conspirator, who giggled where she was reclining on Lady as if the wolf was a cushion, “Anyway, there are far more depraved acts then two men laying together.”

“Too right, my lady,” Sansa agreed with every fiber of her being. When all eyes turned to her curious, she was honest to a certain extent, “There was a man from the North, caught mutilating women for sexual pleasure. I heard rumors from my maids just before we left and my father started an investigation. He received confirmation that he and his friends had been executed by my brother, Robb, two weeks ago.”

“That’s sick,” Olenna cited, as if Sansa had made her point, “Only one thing to be done with dogs like that. Good on the Young Wolf.”

The next two days passed in a similar fashion and Sansa quite enjoyed them. When Sansa finished all of her dresses, she and Olenna split the work for Shireen’s, while Margery and Demera were still working on their own for the tournament. They were discussing what they would make as wedding favors for the royal wedding, when Sansa got the summons that her uncles would be welcomed in the throne room.

“Please excuse me, my lady,” Sansa started to excuse herself, but Margery waved her off, putting her own work down.

“No, no, we’ll go with you,” She insisted, “Let Desmera get a look at this uncle of yours!”

“Shireen, would you like to go or stay here?”

“I’ll go!”

“Alright,” Sansa agreed, “I have to go and get my siblings from the Tower. I’ll meet you in the throne room!”

Bran had never gotten ready so quickly a day in his life. Arya wasn’t as cooperative, but Jon bribed her with a new dagger before she left to return to the North, and that did the trick. Soon, they were all waiting at court.

Robert had gone on a hunt to celebrate the tourney being days away, so seeing her father, Ned Stark, sitting on the Iron Throne and ruling as Hand of the King was incredible. Even her younger siblings seemed to have a new appreciation for why they had come to King’s Landing and what their father did everyday. Sansa refused to cry, but it was a close call.

Edmure went through the usual pomp and circumstance, but her Uncle Brynden smirked up at the Hand like not making a joke was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. To be fair, her father looked ready to pull out his sword and fall on it. They were an amusing sight.

Once the formalities were over, Ned was quick to release them from the room, waving a hand toward his almost shaking son of ten, “I do believe, my lords, that there are other parties anxious to demand your attention.”

Free to move about, Sansa moved quickly to embrace her mother’s relatives, “Uncle Brynden, Uncle Edmure!”

“Little Sansa,” The Blackfish cursed under his breath, “I cannot believe your father let this happen. You’re a grown woman before me!”

“And the spitting image of your mother, my girl,” Edmure offered.

This wasn’t the man who had been imprisoned for so long and tortured by the Lannisters. He was young and strong. The man before her could be another Blackfish this time around.

Jon hadn’t come into court with them, because, although he knew the truth, he understood the feelings of Catelyn Tully’s family. He stayed with everyone’s wolves in the apartments, while Dacey guarded them on the way here. Sansa had only assured him that the day would come when they could tell everyone.

“And you both remember Arya.”

“The Little Wolf,” Brynden acknowledged, “And growing as quickly as your sister.”

“And this,” Sansa said, pushing the energetic bundle toward the Riverland lords, “Is Bran. You both have our condolences.”

“Aye,” Arya weighed in, “That’s right!”

“Hey!”

The Blackfish threw his head back and laughed, “Well, if it isn’t my new squire. Ready for your first day on the job tomorrow, nephew?”

“Yes, Uncle!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I'm weak. Here's the chapter on the Tourney of the Hand. Royal Wedding comes out tomorrow!

With the arrival of the Riverland lords, the few days until the Tourney of the Hand flew by. Suddenly, they had been gone from the North for six months and Sansa’s previous life began to feel like a dream. Since Bran was following the Blackfish around from dawn until dusk, Arya had been given a cessation of her lessons with Septa Mordane, so that she too could spend more time with Dacey, since she was soon destined for Mormont Island. Jon had disappeared from Sansa’s side after their first night having dinner with the Tully’s, awkward as it had been, as he prepared for the Tourney.

She would never forget her father’s face when Jon told the Blackfish, who was actually very friendly with him, that he hadn’t signed up.

“Why ever not?” Ned demanded, “You’ll do fabulously.”

“I… Did not think you would want me to…”

Jon trailed off and it took their father a moment to put it all together. Despite the fact that he was known to most of them to be Jon Targaryen, everyone else still thought he was their father’s bastard. He didn’t think the Quiet Wolf would want him competing as such, in front of Catelyn’s family, even in a tourney in Ned’s name.

“Jon,” Ned said, seriously and in front of his by laws, “I will not have Domeric Bolton being the only son of the North in this tournament. You sign up tomorrow, understand?”

“Yes, Father.”

It had been a simple exchange, but Sansa knew that it meant the world to her brother. Shown by the fact that he’d spent every moment he could training ever since. She just hoped that he wasn’t hurt.

That morning she got up and got ready in her favorite dress. Her father had insisted that she have something new on the first day, so her new shawl with a large row of grey trout breeching and smaller wave lines in blue and red at the top and bottom respectively, sat on her looking glass ready to go. He’d also had small silver bracelets made for her, consisting of direwolves chasing one another, and they were held together by stretchy bands that would fit over a larger hand or lances.

Oberyn had said that her betrothed studied the North. She was sure that had a lot to do with both Jon and Lyanna Stark, rather than her, but still Sansa spent more time on her hair then she cared to admit. It was an elaborate northern style filled with braids, but it still left plenty of hair falling about her waist.

Arya rolled her eyes at her halfway through and proclaimed that she’d get Jeyne to get her ready. And she would end up looking utterly wonderful, in her new Stark Grey tunic with white wolves around the bottom, matching Sansa, and a belt of white fish. Her hair was a simple braid and she had absolutely refused to carry any sort of favor.

Their family broke their fast together, before Sansa and Jon went to pray. They would meet everyone back in the Tower for the start of the tournament. Well, except for Jon, as he would have to go get ready to compete.

Sansa was still kneeling when her brother shot up at the sound of someone's approach. It was still early enough, on a tourney day, that they hadn't been accosted by anyone on the way to the godswood. She turned as well, shaking out her skirts, but not terribly worried, as the wolves weren't up in arms.

It was probably just Varys. He'd met her here several times, including his congratulations on her flowering. The eunuch was one of her dear friends and had even given her a white metallic bracelet that she planned to wear tomorrow, as something to mark the occasion, since her family couldn't hold a celebration.

All the more, when a striking knight that she knew to be her betrothed stepped out of the trees, Sansa felt her heart jump to her throat. He was dressed exactly the same as he was in her dream, but his hair had been let loose and fell to his shoulders. He was much closer now then he had been in the vision and she could see that his eyes were indigo in color, as they darted back and forth between her and Jon like he didn't know where to look.

"Identify yourself, Ser."

He opened his mouth to answer Jon, but then he seemed to think better of it, looking around the trees, "I was found by a Lord Varys the moment I rode into the city and told I should come here. I'm…"

Sansa smiled at her friend's meddling and decided to aid her betrothed as he struggled with how to end the introduction, "He's Aegon Targaryen VI of Dorne, but I'd get very used to calling him Ser Griff Dayne."

Jon froze like Ghost when he spotted a rabbit. His mouth hung open and his eyes were like saucers, but his hand did move away from the pommel.

The Prince seemed to figure that, if Sansa misjudged, then they were too late to stop it, so he just grinned at Jon, "Good morrow, little brother."

Jon was still frozen.

And no one would ever say patience was one of Sansa's strong suits, when she had another option, "Oh, for the love of the old gods, hug him while we're still young."

That seemed to wake him out of his stupor and Jon gave her a look, even as he moved forward, "You've been spending too much time with the Queen of Thorns."

Aegon pulled him in as tight as he could, despite the fact that they were both in full armor, "I've dreamed about meeting you all my life."

Something in Jon's shoulders relaxed, although he also clung to his brother even more fiercely, "I didn't know I had a brother, but there wasn't a day I didn't miss you."

Sansa stepped back and waved the wolves to come with her. She would have left to give the pair a private moment, but that would only bring attention to Jon's absence. Varys had stolen this moment for them and she didn't want to ruin it.

"Here," Aegon started when he finally pulled back, "I have something for you."

Sansa looked on curiously from her bench, where she was stroking both wolves, as he pulled a covered sword from his back. Jon looked confused as he took the shorter pummel covering off, but all that revealed was a solid black handle with three rubies in the hilt. It wasn't until he revealed a blade of solid black valyrian steel that the gift's identity struck Sansa.

Aegon shrugged as he informed the dark haired boy, "This is Blackfyre, the ancestral valyrian steel sword of House Targaryen. Don't worry, it's been lost for centuries, no one will recognize it, but I thought it should be yours. I gave our aunt Dark Sister."

If Jon was crying as he hugged his big brother, Sansa would take it to her grave. She watched him strap the new sword to his side and mutter something about needing to practice with it once he calmed down. Finally, he seemed to remember he wasn't alone, "Well, I figure there is no more putting it off. There is probably someone you should meet; well, three someone's actually… But, Ghost is the most important."

"Don't you have a corner to brood in?"

"Don't get your pretty hair in knots, princess, it was just a joke," Jon chuckled, "Clearly Lady is the most important."

"I will go crying to Father and you'll get your pretty new sword taken away."

"No, Sansa, favorite sister, most important person in the whole world! Don't do that!"

Even as he crowded around her, trying to hug himself out of trouble, she laughed and pushed him away, "You are such a liar. Arya is clearly the favorite sister."

Aegon was a good sport about the entire endeavor, however. He laughed with them, before stepping up to kiss her hand. Sansa was surprised by the heat that pooled in her belly.

"Lady Sansa, I have been so excited to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine, Prince Aegon."

They just stared at each other for the longest of moments.

Jon was the one to break the silence, "I don't even know whose honor to defend at the moment."

Lady barked in what sounded like agreement.

Aegon shook his head and grinned, but his attention never left her, "Are you excited to marry, Lady Sansa?"

"I… I haven't gotten to know you well enough, I must admit."

"You will," He grinned and it was the most charming thing that Sansa had ever witnessed, "I've been told we'll marry in Dorne. Will that please you?"

"I am excited to visit Dorne."

"But?"

She hated that he caught her stray thought, but Sansa couldn't deny, "Perhaps I will miss marrying in the North's tradition, before the Laughing Tree of Winterfell."

He hummed, glancing behind them to the heart tree of the Red Keep, "I'll admit, after reading all I have about the Laughing Trees, this is just a disappointment."

Sansa giggled before she could stop herself, "My entire family would agree with you, good Ser."

"Sansa! Jon! We're going to be late!"

All three of them looked toward Ned Stark's approaching voice.

"It seems our time is up," Aegon noted, "But, perhaps my lady would grant me a favor for this day of revelry?"

Only then did it strike Sansa that he hadn't let go of her hand. Though she was surprised, she still smoothly slid the bracelet from her wrist to his. With a squeeze of her hand, he was gone back into the tree line as fast as he'd appeared.

“Reminds me of Tam Lin,” Sansa remarked.

“The wildling boy? From Old Nan’s stories?”

“Pretty as a spring day,” She grinned at him, “And come to steal your daughters away."

“Father's going to love that.”

He was nowhere to be seen, with Jon's previous sword, by the time their father arrived at the heart tree. Arya and Bran were already with him and looked ready to go. He rushed them back out without noticing anything amiss, by some miracle, because Jon could not stop looking like a sappy sod.

"What in the world took you two so long?" Ned finally asked, after they'd dropped off the wolves, and Jon had gone to report for the lists, "No one is that devout."

"Oh, we were just having a bit of an adventure."

"What sort of…"

"My lady, wait!"

Sansa fought not to roll her eyes, as they'd barely made it a step onto the tourney grounds.

All four of them turned to see who the voice belonged to. Sansa didn't need any reminders of who flew under the banner of a flayed man, even if this was the brother that Ramsay bragged about butchering. She noted her father looked… perturbed by the thought that a Bolton would have her favor.

"Lord Stark, it's an honor. I'm Domeric Bolton, son of…"

"Roose. Of course, son. I've heard nothing but exceptional things about your time in the Vale."

"Thank you, my lord," He turned to Sansa then, "Lady Sansa, I had hoped I might beg a favor of yours, for the tourney."

"You have our utmost hope that you succeed, Ser Bolton," Sansa told him politely, "But, I have already given my favor to another."

He took it with grace, she'd give him that. She also hoped he'd spread the word and save her some trouble. They continued to cross to the stands of the lords, but Sansa knew her family was dying to say something.

Arya made it until her butt touched wood, "Haha! Take that you skin wearing, flying, flaying arse!"

"Arya it is not nice to be so… honest."

Sansa snorted at what their father settled on, "As if you were any happier about it."

"I'm with Arya," Bran put in.

"With Arya on what, nephew?"

"Nothing worth repeating," Ned cut them off, even as the Blackfish and Edmure took a seat behind him.

"I'm sure it was brilliant, Little Wolf," Oberyn assured as he arrived with Tyene, seating the Sand Snake between himself and Sansa, "Don't let him tell you otherwise!"

Arya smirked up at their father, "See, Dorne agrees with me."

"One very loud snake agrees with you. Don't get cute."

"Ned Stark, hand over my baby sister and no one gets hurt."

"Renly! Oh look, children! He even managed to get the pouter out of his hole."

While Stannis rolled his eyes, Renly kissed Sansa on both cheeks before settling with his brother, behind her and the Dornish. The Stark just smiled at Shireen and invited her to sit on their row. When the girl was safely settled between herself and Tyene, there was nothing left to do but reject the five suitors more who came for her favor.

"We need a sign," Renly decided, "Favor has been given, seek elsewhere."

"Oh, what's your count now, Sansa?"

She rolled her eyes at Margery, as the Queen Incumbent started her one of three days where she had to sit here, instead of in the Royal station.

"Five," Her Uncle Edmure offered.

Desmera broke from Margery to sit next to Arya, in front of the Riverland Lord, while Tyene moved down so that Margery was sandwiching Shireen with Sansa. Of course, that made the bench too crowded, so Oberyn and Bran did the only chivalrous thing they could and moved up a row.

"Does anyone else see a problem with this?" Oberyn asked, "Ned, alone, on a row of beautiful women? No idea what to do with one of them?"

"Hold your tongue, Oberyn," Her father rolled his eyes, "And, actually, it's six. One idiot got to Sansa before we could even sit down."

"Seven, if you include the granting," Sansa flushed.

"Well, who got it then?!" Margery demanded, "Tell me everything!"

Sansa opened her mouth to answer, she really did. It's not her fault that Jon chose that moment to walk over.

"Lady Baratheon, might I beg a favor of yours for this tournament?"

Sansa had made sure that Shireen had a golden handkerchief with black antlers for just this occasion, although she'd said she didn't need one. The girl went scarlet as she handed it over to Jon, who winked at her and kissed her hand. Sansa had also made sure that Jon had a flower to match the dress Shireen would wear for everyday in case he won.

When the girl rose to bestow her favor, Sansa heard Renly threaten under his breath, "Say one word, and I will have Robert come down here, and put you over his knee."

Stannis might not like his daughter being so chummy with a bastard, but Sansa was thrilled that Renly was looking out for her. She comforted herself knowing that both the older Baratheon brothers had targets on their backs.

Margery and she both utterly fawned over Shireen. Tyene and Desmera both helped, while Sansa's father grinned and Arya rolled her eyes, but she refrained from commenting. Sansa took that as a sign of personal growth on her sister's part. 

Two more knights came looking for her favor before her father broke, telling Renly to go make the sign and earning a round of laughter. The final call for the lists went out before Ned Stark thought to ask her once more about who she'd actually given her bracelet to.

He got his answer when commotion at the entrance made everyone's head turn. A final contestant came charging onto the field on a white war stallion, which hosted a banner of lavender and white on its haunches. The rider stopped at the lists and dismounted the seemingly unruly stallion with ease, disappearing behind it.

Oberyn's shout of, "He made it!" Behind Ned, would have given it away, if the banner hadn't.

When he turned to get his daughter's reaction and found her grinning from ear to ear, a deaf, dumb, and blind man could have put it together. Ned clapped with the crowd when Robert was announced moments later, before his attention went back to Sansa, "An adventure, you said?"

"Of a sort?"

"Indeed… You're supposed to be the good one, Sansa."

"I just gave him a bracelet," Her Tully blue eyes twinkled, "You should see what Jon got out of the excursion."

The Quiet Wolf looked at her skeptically.

"Regardless," Sansa changed the subject, "I reserve the right to give you just as many grey hairs as Arya."

"Prepare to be white by the end of this tourney," The younger girl cackled.

"What was that, Little Wolf?"

Arya smiled up at the Red Viper, "Sansa gave her favor to… Ser Dayne."

Suddenly Oberyn leaned down, so that his head was floating between her and her father, "Excuse me, but he came to see you before the man who raised him like his own?"

"Yes?" Sansa said slowly.

"Well, I have never!"

"Let it go, Obie."

"No, I will not let it go, Ned! I hope he gets his little arse kicked."

"Oh, you do not."

"Yes, I do!"

"Obie?"

"Alright, I don't."

The Tourney of the Hand started after Robert acknowledged all the things her father had accomplished since his arrival. Ned Stark stood to cheers all around, but no one else cheered like his children.

Sansa wasn't surprised to see that young Griff Dayne had placed himself in the opposite bracket from Jon. They'd both have to be finalists before they stood a chance of facing one another. That made her feel better.

Everyone only competed once the first day, then they were expected to compete more and more often every day, as the number of contestants dwindled. Across from the lords' box was the competitors' own place to watch the tourney and scope out the competition. 

She wasn't surprised when Jon was joined by Domeric Bolton in their stand, a boy who'd wanted nothing more than to meet his bastard brother, only to be killed for it once. Griff, because she had to get used to that, took residency on his brother's other side, and Loras took a seat next to the "Dayne". They were all sitting on the very top row, where they could see everything, and trade information; a powerful block, Sansa suspected.

Loras competed early and gave his sister a favor; a red rose. Robert looked apprehensive for two seconds, but when Sansa looked back she spotted Renly poking fun at him, and the King just rolled his eyes. At least they could joke with one another.

Domeric did very well in the tournament and Sansa could tell that her father was begrudgingly impressed. He fought just before Jon, taking on and winning against a knight from the Riverlands.

"Boy never could swing a sword," The Blackfish commented, "Must have joined on his father's orders, because he never stood a chance."

Bran was invested whole heartedly in every comment their uncle made, every analysis he offered of the competitors. Arya enjoyed the commentary too. Both her younger siblings caterwauled the entire time for the knights that took their young warrior fancies, but nothing compared to Jon stepping up against Damon Sand.

Their father had gotten Jon new armor for the tourney. It was a dark grey steel and the chestplate was emblazoned with a white wolf, that had rubies for eyes. The rubies in the pommel of his new sword made the all black piece he was carrying match the armor.

"I'm going to kill him," Oberyn hissed behind them, "He was supposed to wait."

Luckily Renly misinterpreted the comment, "Worried your boy is about to get his arse handed to him, Martell?"

Oberyn popped off quickly, but quieted down as the match started.

Jon might be a bastard, according to common knowledge, but he was still the son of the most celebrated Hand since Tywin Lannister. With his father cheering him on in the stands, the crowd became rambunctious as they joined in. Even the King couldn't resist joining in calls for the White Wolf, as his friend's son fought.

It was a close fight, Sansa speculated that had a lot to do with the fact that Jon was using a brand new sword. But, in the end, Sand was left in the dirt with Blackfyre at his chin. Sansa stood with the rest of her family to cheer like mad.

When he won, Jon bestowed his favor on Shireen. She accepted the gold flower that matched her black and gold dress excitedly. Sansa offered to braid it into her hair and she happily accepted.

Up next, and the final match of the day, was Griff Dayne squaring off with Ser Joff Lefford of the Golden Tooth. Kevan Lannister had sent a large number of Westerland knights to compete, trying to regain some pride for the West. Knowing what Sansa did about Griff's identity, she knew that this would be personal, to a degree.

They all cheered for the new Sword of the Morning, even her Tully relatives, who had been informed of the betrothal. She could see the difference between Jon's fight and his betrothed's. Lefford never stood a chance.

It was over and he was bloody before anyone truly even had the chance to see what the new knight of House Dayne could do. At the same time, utterances went around to watch his coming matches, against more worthy opponents. Everyone watched as he approached the lords' box holding their breath.

Some, mostly those in this box, knew of their betrothal, but even more did not. She imagined what they must be looking at. The daughter of Ned Stark, killer of Arthur Dayne, being approached by the Sword of the Morning.

"Lady Sansa, might I grant you my favor?"

Shireen bounced next to her, and Margery beamed alongside Tyene, as she rose.

"Forgive me, my lady, but I have ridden hard from Dorne and have only my personal sigil to give to another," His smile was like the sun as he handed it over, "But it holds my utmost affections."

Sansa took the handkerchief, but couldn't look just then, "Such a lovely favor shall forever remain dear to me, I assure you, Ser Griff."

"It will be the first of many, Lady Sansa," He told her, before kissing her hand, "I shall win this tournament for you."

"I pray you do, Ser."

The final favor of the day bestowed, a large cheer rang from the crowd, as the knight walked away. Sansa sat down next to her father and finally looked at the favor, as a final round of applause went up upon Robert's departure. It was gorgeous.

A golden spear and white sword were crossed in front of a red sun. Protruding from the sun were a black set of wings, sharper than a bird's, and she knew them to be dragon wings. Below the image were the words of House Dayne, Dawn Brings Light, in gold stitching, and all of it was on a bed of white.

"It's beautiful!" Shireen declared.

"I think so too."

Uncle Brynden sent Bran to get a schedule of the next day's matches and put it to their gathered party, "Alright, some of you have Small Council tomorrow, but the White Wolf, Sword of the Morning, and Knight of Flowers blocked together, just after midday. We'll meet here then?"

Everyone agreed and soon they all started to depart.

Oberyn leaned over to her father, "Dine with us tonight, bring the By Laws."

Her father tensed, but nodded. They needed the Riverland lords to know the truth, though given what they currently thought of Jon, Sansa understood his trepidation. It would be a family effort though.

Jon rejoined them on the way back to the Tower, heading back to change out of his armor. They all expressed their pride and excitement for him. Arya and Bran were fascinated by his new sword.

The second they came through the door, Jaime Lannister was on Jon, checking him for injuries. Sansa fought not the laugh at the Kingslayer turning into a mother hen when being confined to the apartment. Jon just assured the Golden Lion that he was fine and started toward his and Bran’s room to change.

When Ned Stark finished dressing for dinner and sent his youngest to freshen up, Sansa and Jon already finished, he turned his steel grey eyes on the two of them, "So, what happened?"

“What are you talking about?” Jaime demanded.

“Look at the sword he’s carrying.”

Jon tried to open his mouth to explain, where he had just finished collapsing on their extended cushion, having changed into black slacks and a white tunic, with a grey direwolf. Blackfyre was still strapped to his side and, for whatever reason, as he handed it over to Jaime, Sansa remembered the cloak she'd made for him when she'd first woken up in this timeline.

She scurried into her room, startling a bathing Arya, before grabbing it from her trunk and hurrying back out. Jon's eyes went wide at the sight of it, looking at where their father was wearing his now that they'd be facing the night air, and back to her. Sansa beamed and put it on him, "And, I promise, as soon as we can, I'll stitch a big red three headed dragon on the back!"

"Sansa, it's perfect!" He scooped her up in a hug and swung her around.

She giggled as she was put back on her feet.

“This is Blackfyre,” Jaime whispered, “Ned, tell me this isn’t Blackfyre.”

"Alright, someone best start talking."

Sansa smiled at her father, "Prince Aegon made it into the city before we went to pray. Lord Varys found him and stole us a few minutes in the godswood this morning. That's all."

"Minus a valyrian steel sword and a favor granted, of course."

"That happened," Jon grinned.

“Oh gods,” Jaime lamented at his grin, hands running through his golden hair, “They’re both their father incarnate!”

Ned rolled his eyes, steel gaze setting on them, "You have to be careful. All of you. He's Ser Griff Dayne outside of this apartment and the Dornish villa, maybe even inside it. We have to mind the younger children."

They both looked properly abashed.

"They're here for three more months and I'd never forgive myself, if anything happened to any of…" Ned sighed, looking down to where he was ringing his hands. Jaime walked over to squeeze his shoulder. When he looked up he did manage to give Jon a small smile, "But, I'm ecstatic you got to meet your brother."

Jon beamed and soon they were moving out. Oberyn insisted that they always bring the wolves, the Red Viper both enjoying them and figuring that the four deserved a good run as often as possible. So, with all four direwolves in tow they departed.

The Riverland lords met them at the gate of the Red Keep and followed them to the villa. Brynden Tully seemed perfectly at ease, but Edmure was tense. He was protective of his sister and that was logical.

Sansa hoped tonight would help.

A servant let them into the villa and they were shown into the main room, where Oberyn, Ellaria, the Sand Snakes, and their secret prince were already gathered. It seemed that the Red Viper was in the middle of a lecture, while Ellaria and the girls sprawled around the various cushions, with his paramour sitting next to Sansa’s betrothed. The silver blonde Dornishman was attempting to get her favor around the pommel of Dawn.

“...Have to be smart, you have to be cunning, and most importantly, you have to be subtle,” Oberyn hissed, “Subtle, subtle, subtle!!! Do you know the word?”

“No boy under thirty ever does,” The Blackfish broke in, announcing them, “Well, except for maybe Ned here. Made a name for himself that way.”

“Not to mention that’s rich coming from you,” Ellaria noted to her lover, standing to greet their guests, “Be welcome, friends. We have much to discuss.”

Once everyone was seated, no one seemed to know where to begin. Oberyn and Ned looked at one another, as if debating where to start. When it went on too long, Ellaria and Sansa shared a look.

So, Sansa took over, where she was situated between Aegon and Jon. She looked to the Blackfish, since he had always been the one that needed to be on their side to sway the others, “Let’s begin with this. Jon Snow is not my father’s son, base born or otherwise. He is the true born son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, who married in Dorne with Elia Martell’s blessing, before she was kidnapped by the Mad King. Lyanna ran to escape a traditional North and even more traditional father.”

The Riverland lords were struck. Both looked to the Warden of the North for confirmation and only returned their attention to her when he nodded. Their eyes kept straying to Jon though.

“In addition, I am not betrothed to Ser Griff Dayne. I am betrothed to Aegon Targaryen VI of Dorne, the first born son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell, who was smuggled out of Red Keep as an infant by Lord Varys,” Sansa considered that for a moment, before turning to her betrothed, who was grinning at her, “How did that reunion go this morning?”

“He’s more sentimental than he likes to admit,” Was his only response.

“That’s the best summation of this mess I’ve ever heard,” Tyene offered and Sansa winked at her friend.

“Ned! Why didn’t you tell Cat? Tell us?” Edmure demanded, “We would have helped you! We’re family!”

“Baelish,” Her father admitted and Sansa saw the realization dawn on her uncles’ faces, “He… By the time I got Jon home, she knew I had a bastard babe with me, and he was in her ear spitting vile. The only way to keep him safe, keep them safe, was to keep those who knew limited to myself and the Martells.”

“You’re working against Robert?” Uncle Brynden demanded, “You want to put Aegon and Sansa on the throne?”

“I do.”

“Did you get the Pac…”

“Yes,” Ned cut the Blackfish off confidently.

Oberyn set his nephew with a look and gestured around the room, “See how easily you can be disposed of? Treat her like a Queen, young man.”

“Yes, Uncle. I know.”

Sansa felt bad and held his hand, “They’re actually very nice, once you get to know them.”

“I suppose I’d be just as protective, if my daughter was the most beautiful woman in the world.”

She flushed down to her toes. The Dornish prince was very charming. That was proving hard to resist.

“Well, aren’t they adorable,” Oberyn asked, “Who wants food?”

The night turned utterly enjoyable after that. The Blackfish threatened Aegon within an inch of his life, but the young knight of eight and ten was a good sport about it. It was loud and crazy with the Dornish, Riverlanders, Northerners, and their newly acknowledged dragons, but everyone seemed hopeful about the future for one of the first times that Sansa could remember, no matter the life.

When the meal ended, discussion turned to the Vale.

“Baelish says he’s marrying Lysa.”

“She can’t be that stupid,” Edmure dismissed.

Ned raised an eyebrow at his brother by law. For all that the Tullys put family first and were vastly protective of Catelyn, their good daughter, he saw the moment the other man remembered which sister they were dealing with, “If that’s the plan, I don’t know how we’ll counteract her, not with them safe in the Eyrie.”

“If we had another foot in the door of the Vale…” The Blackfish started.

“Already two steps ahead of you,” Ned told him, “I started negotiating with Yohn Royce and his daughter, Ysilla, is on her way North to marry Robb. She’ll dock in White Harbor soon.”

That’s why Robb would be in White Harbor to stop the invasion. He would be there to aid the Manderlys because he was going to claim his bride. Sansa wanted to smack herself for not realizing.

“Robb’s getting married?” Arya was shocked.

“Very soon,” Ned told her, “And when you go back North, I’m going to have a special mission for you.”

“What?”

“You and Dacey are going to deliver Ice to him, as well as a letter from me, officially releasing all power as Warden of the North to him.”

“Truly?”

“Aye,” Ned smiled at her, “Can I trust you with that task?”

“Yes, Father!”

“I don’t think they would notice,” Aegon whispered, “If we took a stroll around the garden.”

Sansa was surprised, but she also hadn’t removed her hand from his. Everyone was back in the main room and lounging as they plotted to take over the Iron Throne, but she and Aegon were on the edge nearest the exit. Knowing, if she was going to marry him, that there was no avoiding having to have a private conversation, Sansa steeled her spine and nodded.

She let him pull her out of the room and into the gardens.

Before they got out of range, Sansa heard her father catch wind of their movement, “Oberyn!”

“Leave them be, Father,” Jon dismissed, “Ghost, go keep an eye on things… Especially that redhead, she’s feisty.”

Sansa turned to glare at him, even as her betrothed chuckled. But, Ghost and Lady joined them as dutiful chaperones in the gardens, and she had to admit that the flowers were lovely. Nothing like High Garden, of course, but lovely all the same.

He sat them down on a bench, where they could actually still see inside. The wolves disappeared from sight, but she knew that one startled cry and they would tear someone apart. Now that they were alone, Sansa would acknowledge that they didn’t seem to know what to do besides stare at one another.

“I’ve been told we should have been betrothed my entire life,” Aegon finally admitted, “And now… I have no idea how to not make a mess of this.”

Sansa thought about that for a moment, “Your uncle said that you always liked stories of the North.”

“I was obsessed with it. You, my brother… I hoped one day I would get the chance to marry you, to fulfill my father and Lyanna’s plan… But, I also wanted to know more about her, your aunt. I always wondered…”

“What?”

He took a moment, seeming to think on how to start, “Jon Connington and my father were best friends; he was standing there when my mother spotted Lyanna and he says it was love at first sight,” He laughed and confessed, “I’m told my father took a while to feel the same. After the Knight of the Laughing Tree incident, and by the time he crowned her, he was smitten too... I wondered what that felt like.”

“Do you think you’ll ever find out?”

“I think I’m starting to,” He gazed at her and Sansa flushed, “You are the most gorgeous woman in the world, that wasn’t put on. But, you’re also so intelligent, Sansa. You just took a conversation that could have gone on for hours and…”

“I know my family.”

“You’re brilliant. I know you don’t know me well yet, but I promise I could not be more excited to marry you,” Aegon smiled, “And I won’t marry you, until you feel the same way.”

"I think I'm starting to," She couldn't stop the smile that broke out on her face.

What could have been their first kiss was interrupted by Arya came matching out in a huff and flinging herself on the bench. She did not want to be there, "What's the matter, Little Wolf?"

"Father wanted a human out here. And Jon refused," She rolled her eyes, "As if I care what you two do!"

"I think that's why I got drafted out here."

They all looked up to see that Bran had been sent out too. Poor thing dropped down next to Aegon with his arms crossed. Sansa felt for the younger kids.

"We're going, keep your knickers on," Obara shouted as all the Sand Snakes and Jon also came out, "Meddlesome old men!" She turned to Aegon, "We may have to kill them."

He smiled at her and it struck Sansa that she wasn't the only one with a cousin who was more like a sibling, "We've been plotting it for years. Of course, might be less work to just banish them to Castle Black."

The Sand Snakes started sparring lightly with the younger kids, but it wasn't too much longer before Sansa and her family had to go back to the Tower. It settled something in Sansa to see the Sand Snakes so at ease with her betrothed. Myrcella had always been fearful of Joffrey, but there were no signs of any such trepidation among the Dornish.

As they were getting ready to head out, Aegon disappeared and reappeared quickly, only this time he had another covered sword on his back. When he proclaimed to be going with them, Oberyn rolled his eyes.

"Really, right now?"

"What could be more natural then making sure my betrothed gets back safely," He asked with a grin, "Besides, don't you always say that there is no time like the present?"

As he got onto his horse, the Red Viper scoffed, "You don't have to take everything I say to heart."

"Most of it's crap anyway," A mounted Ned commented.

"Kiss my arse, Stark!"

They all rode away amid laughter and Sansa couldn't even be surprised when Jon and his brother took off racing. Arya and Bran moved after them and soon they were all charging up to the Tower of the Hand. Stable boys took their horses and her father rushed ahead to warn Jaime.

Aegon confessed to her, "I can't believe I'm about to meet Jaime Lannister."

"You're excited?" Sansa asked skeptically.

"Of course!" He seemed to realize why she asked after a moment and sighed, "I always worried you'd hate me, because of who my grandfather was. I know what he did to your family, his own wife, my mother… He was mad."

Hating him for that had never crossed her mind. He was a baby and as much a victim as her family. As much so as his mother and sister, and grandmother.

"Asking you to marry a dragon, I know it's a beastly burden to bear. The other side of the coin exists," He looked just like Jon in his broodiness, however he swung to determination quickly, "But, I'm going to do better. Be better. I swear it."

"I believe you," She told him honestly.

Ned met them at the door, "Alright, all of you go to your rooms. Jaime can't leave and this is not a public display."

Sansa wished her betrothed luck and kissed him on the cheek before he could pull up her hand. Her father rolled his eyes, but allowed it. Jon hugged his brother, before dragging Bran inside and to their room.

Arya went ahead of her, but Sansa stopped to hug Jaime, "Everything is going to be fine."

He clung to her for a moment, before steeling himself like the knight he was.

This wasn't going to be a loud discussion, like her father having it out with the Golden Lion, so, instead of joining Arya, she simply sat at her looking glass to undo her hair. That didn't mean she wasn't curious as she could possibly be. And when her looking glass rippled in a familiar way, she smiled instead of being frightened.

Arya must have turned to her from the door, "Come on, Sans, aren't you… Are you doing that?"

That did startled her, as she realized she wasn't the only one who could see the vision, "You can…"

"Aye," Arya bumped at her until she scooted over on the small bench, "Have you had any more dreams about Robb?"

"No."

"I didn't know you could do this."

"I didn't either."

They quieted as their father opened the door to let Aegon enter. Sansa knew he was wearing the same thing that he had at dinner, but only then did it really strike her. The black tunic and slacks fit well and showed how shapely he was from training as a knight in Dorne and with the Gold Company. A red sun, with crossed sword and spear, were shown proudly on his chest, and Sansa speculated for the first time that the black wings were still there, hidden in plain sight just like her betrothed.

He walked in and Jaime's hand flew to his mouth. The pair stared at each other for the longest time, just taking the other in. Her father quickly shut the door and lingered by it, as Aegon moved closer, until there was barely an arm's length between them.

"If you looked anymore like him," Jaime finally managed, but his voice was rough, "You'd be a ghost."

Aegon smirked, "Jon always said he couldn't tan."

"He wasn't wrong," Jaime shook his head, pointing to her betrothed's tunic, "Looked like that sun the first time he went to Dorne to court your mother."

"I've wanted to meet you for so long."

Suddenly they were hugging and Sansa could tell that both were crying.

"I'm so sorry…"

"You never did anything to be sorry for!"

"Yes, I did. My honor was much better spent on your mother, your grandmother, then it was on that fucking name."

"Father would have pardoned you. It wouldn't have even been a question."

"He put wildfire under the city," Jaime confessed once more, "He was going to burn the city before being dethroned."

"Did Papa Lion give that order?"

Jaime pulled away, "I don't… He loved you, he loved Rhaenys. You were his first grandchildren, I… But, he pled guilty."

"To save your life," Aegon hissed, "I want to…"

"No!" Ned and Jaime shouted in unison.

"You are not going near the Black Cells," Jaime insisted vehemently, hands going to cup the younger man's cheeks, "Do you understand me?"

Aegon glanced away, but Sansa could see the moment that he resigned himself and nodded. He pulled away from Jaime and offered the sword in his hand, "I found this for you."

Jaime put it aside, grabbing the dragon's hand to look at it. Sansa called his smile nostalgic, after a moment of thought, especially as she saw him swipe a thumb over Aegon's palm, "Do you know how you got this?"

"No, it's been there as long as I can remember."

Jaime hummed, "It was a month or so before Harrenhal. Your father's name day had just passed and he'd gotten a new dagger from his mother. You weren't walking yet, but you were crawling and just the grabbiest little thing I'd ever seen…"

The boy grinned at that.

"Of anything. Hair, capes, jewelry; if it took your fancy you had to inspect it. Including the dagger he left on his bedside table," Jaime smiled at what Sansa deduced was a scar, "I was on duty and your mother screamed. I went tearing in, ready for a fight, and you were wailing at a cut across your palm. I tore off my cloak to stop the bleeding, but it wasn't that deep… Didn't save your father from having to sleep in my and Jon's barracks for a week."

"He didn't?"

"Oh, son, your mother told him to go sleep in the kennel with all the other dogs," All three of the men laughed, as did Sansa and Arya, even as Jaime continued, "We were a promotion."

After a moment, Ned joined Jaime and Aegon on the extended cushion, while Jaime unveiled his new sword. Pulling off the pommel covering revealed a solid gold handle that came to a lion at the end, which hosted emeralds for eyes. Something seemed to strike Jaime and he tore off the blade covering; this sword was also valyrian steel.

"You found Brightroar," His gaze turned to Aegon astounded.

The teen grinned, "Surprise?"

The mirror rippled and Arya huffed, "Why did you stop?"

"I can't control it, Arya. I suppose that was all we were supposed to see."

The next morning, Sansa dawned a Riverland hairstyle, leaving all of her hair free, except for two twists that came together, simply to keep it out of her face. She hadn't planned her lavender and white dress as a sign of her betrothal, but it was convenient. It was also convenient, that with the news becoming more widespread and her previous favor housed on Dawn, no one else accosted her the next day.

The second day of initial sword play proved uneventful. The block that had been created the day before held true, with Jon, Griff, Loras, and an officially included Domeric all advancing. Jon would report that the Bolton was, actually, a genuine person, despite their families’ rivalry.

Griff asked Sansa for her favor when she and her father arrived, just as Jon did with Shireen. Everyone was avoiding Margery, for fear of the King, but the Rose of Highgarden was a good sport about it. Tyene also received a wink from Jon, as the White Wolf walked away with his golden trinket from the girl between Sansa and Margery.

When Griff won his round, he bestowed Sansa with a necklace worn against the neck, like she preferred. It was a lavender ribbon, which housed a lovely white sword charm that bled into a star. Everyone cooed at their cuteness.

The next day was the first day of jousting and Aegon, for he could not be Griff when showing out as such, earned his uncle's ire by riding out in solid black armor bearing his personal sigil, which apparently he'd been forbidden from wearing. He charged in on the red stallion Sansa had ridden to the Dornish villa that first night and she was informed by Tyene the horse was his. Instead of his banner for House Dayne, he was sporting the Martell banner, which was far from unheard of, but Oberyn almost got a faint heart.

When he won and presented her with a golden necklace housing a sun charm, Sansa grinned at him as he slipped it on her, "You're in trouble, young man."

He kissed her hand with a devilish smirk, "Such has been my state since infancy, my lady."

The day wasn't ruined, but it was certainly shaken up, when they returned to the tower, by her father receiving word of the Iron Born's attack on the North. They had, apparently, tried to take White Harbor on the day the tourney in the father's name started. It was enough to call for an emergency Small Council.

Sansa and Jon followed their father into the Red Keep, leaving Arya and Bran in the Tower with Jaime and Septa Mordane. They couldn't go into the meeting, of course, but they wound up on the balcony down the hall with Margery and Loras, who had been with Lord Paxter Redwyne. Shireen and Ser Davis joined them when Stannis and the King arrived, along with Griff, when Oberyn came charging in last.

"What do you think they're going to do?"

Sansa answered where she was perched on the ledge with Margery, clinging to Griff's arm, where he stood beside her, "I don't know… Our father's ward is the rightful heir to the Iron Islands though."

The Queen Incumbent nodded at the answer.

"If a change in leadership was ever called for…" Loras hissed.

"Fucking right," Jon growled on the other side of her betrothed, "At least Robb sent them running."

"Language!" Sansa reminded him.

Shireen giggled, "It's okay, Sansa. You should have heard what Uncle Robert was saying on the way here."

"I can only imagine," Margery huffed, "Ours in the fury, indeed."

"Your father and Lord Redwyne will crush them," Griff winked at the girl, making her beam.

"You lot might as well have your ears pressed to the door!"

They all grinned at the Queen of Thorns, where she was approaching on Renly's arm. She joined the ladies near the railing and Renly took off for Loras' other side.

"Is that an option?" Shireen asked, sounding willing to volunteer.

"No!" Sansa, Margery, and Olenna chorused.

Jon snorted, "Besides, my lady, that is seasoned oak. Only thing you'd hear would be the same as a grave."

Robert's booming voice echoes down the hall as he cursed the Iron Born to the deepest of hells.

"Then again," Jon huffed, "I've been wrong before."

Shireen grinned at him.

It took hours before they heard anything from inside the Small Council chamber. The sun had set and there was a chill to the air. Jon gave his cloak, which he only happened to be wearing because he'd been planning a ride with Griff, to Sansa and Margery.

Olenna had given up and returned to the Tyrells' apartments, since her grandchildren were here anyway, and the men were all soldiering through. Shireen huddled between the older maidens for warmth, refusing to go anywhere. They were all probably too stubborn for their own good, but the attack had everyone talking.

The door opened just as the sun completely disappeared. They all called out to the Small Council and King, as the party started toward the other end of the hall. They all turned, most chuckling at their huddle.

Margery happily abandoned the cloak to cuddle into the King's side, looking utterly besotted, even if she wasn't, "Everything is settled?"

Robert seemed to be surprised at the easy affection and Sansa wasn't surprised given his marriage to Cersei. Of course, he still put his arm around her shoulders, "Indeed. Ned had the perfect plan to drill those Krakens right up the arse!"

"We're going to hire the Gold Company," Ned told him, perching between his children, "Stannis is going to let them dock on Dragonstone, until your mother and Theon can join us here."

It took effort for the Red Wolf to not show her teeth in a grin. Her face remained curious, though. That was a brilliant way to get the Gold Company welcomed to Westeros.

"That's a remarkable idea, Lord Hand."

"Thank you, Griff. And, with Lord Stannis and Lord Paxter's guidance, Theon should be able to retake the seat at Pyke."

They wound up eating in the Red Keep with the King that night. Though the man was loud and crude, Sansa would admit to enjoying the stories of her father's youth. The man's eyes kept drawing to her, but Sansa hung to her courting betrothed, perhaps playing up her youth a bit.

Given how she'd fawned over Joffrey, it wasn't hard to fake. And Griff played along perfectly, seeming just as smitten with her. Their innocent youth, put on though it was, worked to their advantage.

The next morning the Starks prayed before getting ready, as everyone had just wound up sleeping in the castle, even the Dornish. Griff kissed her on the cheek before leaving the Tower of the Hand on his red steed, who she finally learned was named Sun Spot. She still thought that what her mother said in her first life was true, because what she was feeling wasn't love, but smitten seemed to be an appropriate term.

She wore a hairstyle from The Reach in support of Margery, half down and half in a twist knot. Her light grey dress, with green and yellow underskirts and stitching, looked fabulous, as her sleeves came to a sharp point over her hands. Remaining in the golden sun necklace, Sansa was ready.

It was the day of the Melee and the only favors that would be given, Margery would provide to the victorious. All Sansa wanted was for no one to be hurt. This day was a mess last time, but there was also no Mountain.

The seating arrangements were all but standard among their party now, but the fourth day of the tourney brought a shake up. Sansa bestowed her fourth favor on her betrothed; the second he was currently wearing on his right wrist, as he refused to take them off. Tyene happily took the seat next to Shireen with Margery gone and her Uncle Edmure moved down to sit next to Desmera, who was looking more wooed every day.

Arya actually moved up a row to be with the Blackfish and Bran. Edmure sat next to his brother by law and he was looking quite smitten with his Redwyne from the Reach as well. Competition had thinned, but all the men in the lords' box grouped together among the two rows to discuss what strategies their block of knights would use.

Acknowledgement of the attack on the North came first, as well as the announcement that a new Lord of the Iron Islands had been selected in Theon Greyjoy. The use of the Gold Company sent chatter all around, but it soon quieted. Then, Margery was announced as the next Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Their box erupted in cheers, as did the competitors' box. Margery, the Rose of Highgarden, was lovely and gracious, with Mace and Olenna at her side. She wore a green dress with yellow and black accents, and, though she waved to everyone, she sparkled when her attention turned to her friends.

The melee, as expected, was a damn circus. Sansa worried her father's arm the entire time, as she prayed that no one, especially her betrothed or brother, would be hurt. By the end of it, the entire fight took five hours this time, but their block of knights proved successful.

When Griff, Jon, Loras, and Domeric all stood looking at one another, everyone knowing it was a test to their partnership, all four threw their swords to the ground together. Robert named all four the champions and Margery gave each a gold rose to bestow. The Rose of Highgarden said something to Griff as she gave him the rose, but no one had a chance of overhearing.

Loras gave his rose to Desmera, since Margery was now inappropriate, and Domeric gave his to Tyene. The Dornish woman said something that made his pale face go red as a Lannister banner, but she wouldn't tell Sansa what. Jon, of course, bestowed his on Shireen, and even Stannis couldn't resist being a bit charmed by her brother's authenticity.

Griff gave her the rose he'd won and whispered, "Her grace sends her regards, my lady."

Sansa rolled her eyes, but smiled when he kissed her hand. Everyone had a remark.

It would only hit her later that night that Petyr hadn't shown up at the tournament yet. That was unlike him, especially to miss frolicking among so many lords. Those that would be his good brothers especially.

The next morning she donned her peach sheer and red dress. It was a very Dornish styled dress, at Tyene's insistence after the betrothal was settled on, as was her hairstyle. She also donned the golden sun necklace once more, her friend only revealing that today was not such a gift.

It was the second day of jousting and she donned a silver bracelet to place on Griff's lance, as she had two days prior, before going to pray with her younger siblings, Septa Mordane, and Dacey, in Jon's absence.

"Good morrow, Lady Sansa."

"Lord Varys! I haven't seen you all week!" Sansa declared, "You've been missed."

It was true. Even the previous day, the Master of Whispers must have beaten her father to the Small Council chamber, because he'd been utterly absent. Sansa happily took his arm to stroll to their bench.

"I'm touched, Lady Sansa," He smiled genuinely at her admittance, probably unused to anyone missing him, "I've been rushing to handle our flighty bird with the Little Lion."

"He left King's Landing early?"

"Indeed, my dear, but do not worry. It has been handled."

She'd take his word for it, in a way she wouldn't anyone else's. Varys got results, he always had. Sansa was happy to sit on the bench and discuss her own curiosities, "And how was the start to your week?"

The eunuch rolled his eyes, "Besotted little boys should hold their tongues."

"Was it everything you hoped it would be?"

He huffed, "That it was… And you, my lady? I worried for your history."

"It was overwhelming at first," She confessed, "But he's… Not like the others."

"Too true… I have looked into his proclivities, if you need any further assurance."

"What do you think on the topic?"

"He attended a few establishments in Essos when he was sixteen, for educational purposes, but he hasn't been back since…"

That was a very standard tradition in both Westeros and Essos. After all, someone had to know what to do on the wedding night and women were more often kept ignorant. Men of a certain station were expected to be familiar with carnality, as well as control themselves, in an ideal world.

"He spent most of his time with women," Varys actually snickered, "Though he did have one experience with a man, curious due to his uncle's inclinations, before deciding that it wasn't for him."

She smiled as well. Oberyn Martell, setting disgustingly high expectations for his nephew in all areas of life. Only the Red Viper.

"That was two years ago, now, and he seems perfectly content to… Take himself in hand, until marriage."

Flushing at the turn of phrase, Sansa still felt a final nerve in her gut settle. They chatted for a while, about the tourney, before Septa Mordane came looking for them. The woman was mostly just a chaperone now and had even expressed curiosity about what she would do next.

Sansa had suggested her returning North with Robb's marriage. That had seemed to have some appeal for the future. They would have to see what happened to Rickon in light of him travelling south with their mother and Theon first.

Her father met them at the entrance to the tourney grounds after Small Council and escorted them to the lords' box. Sansa wasn't as fond of the jousting. Much like the melee, it was more brutal… Especially when one's secret Dornish prince insisted on unseating every Westerland knight he faced.

Oberyn had mellowed about him using his own horse and armor. Instead the man had swung the other way and cheered loudly for his squire during every match. No one could deny that the new Sword of the Morning and the White Wolf were tied as favorites to win the tourney.

Jon was doing so well, earning himself a fierce reputation without ever taking the black. They'd made up a story of him travelling to Essos and being gifted the valyrian steel sword by someone from the Gold Company. He was, perhaps, even more thrilled to have bonded with his brother and new friends, even if one was a Bolton.

Sansa watched the pair of dragons sitting center stage on the top row of the competitors' stands, unconsciously mimicking each other, as they sat with their elbows on their knees, watching like predators for any signs of weakness. Every once in a while, if one spotted something, their identical heads of different shades would tilt toward one another conspiratorially.

It was remarkable, one brother born of the sun and sand of Dorne, and the other born of the ice and winds of the North. So different, but so alike. They would be hard for any foe, perhaps even the Night King, to tear down.

Shireen was wearing a blue dress today and, when Jon won, he bestowed her with a winter rose. He'd told Sansa that he didn't need help with today's favor and she realized that he must have written home to Robb, to get one. That was sweet and she could tell that it meant the world to the little Baratheon lady.

When Griff won, she was given a traditional head circlet from Dorne. It was a thin golden piece, well crafted, with a golden sun, matching her necklace, but there was a small pearl dangling from it that landed just between her brows. 

"This was my mother's," He confessed in the lowest of voices as he put it on her, "But, my uncle gave it up happily, to see it on another, upcoming, Dornish princess."

Tears pulled on Sansa's eyes, even as his hand found her cheek, and his forehead found hers, "I'll treasure it for all my days."

"And I'll treasure you."

Their first kiss was once again cut off, this time by the Red Viper, "Don't you do it, boy. I'll let the wolves come down there and whoop that arse."

Aegon's eyes cut to his uncle in a glare, before returning to her, once more seeming ever gentle, "My lady."

He kissed her hand and walked away, like he had on all the other days. When Sansa turned she too glared at the Red Viper, who had the audacity to laugh. Her father was also shaking with mirth, when she reclaimed her spot next to him.

"Father?"

"Oh gods, here it comes," Ned Stark lamented, "Yes, dear?"

"I want to marry the pretty Dayne," She admitted with a grin, then she turned to a beggar on a street corner, "Please, Papa,  _ please! _ "

She hadn't called him that since she was a toddler, but it had the desired effect.

He turned to Oberyn with a glare, "I blame you for this!"

"Did I not just tell him no?" Oberyn turned to the other lords and ladies in the box, "Back me up on this, people! I just told him no!"

Among the uproarious jesting that took over their stand, her father's gaze returned to her. It was both excited and melancholy somehow, "We'll sign the contract on the last day of the tourney."

She embraced him, before her sights returned to the competitors' box. It was clear that her betrothed, almost officially and not simply a courting betrothal, was receiving a ribbing from his own across the field. Sansa winked at him with a grin.

Even Arya was excited for her, all throughout the night and into the next morning. The Little Wolf only got more excitable, as what she considered to be Sansa's big day arrived. She was once more wearing the grey tunic with white wolves and white fish, before she allowed Jeyne to braid her hair quickly, then she sat to watch Sansa get ready.

Another elaborate northern style took over her locks of flame today, though most of the braids were in the back of her hair, instead of around her crown. She donned her dress of shimmering weirwood leaves, with three silk winter roses at the top of each sleeve at her shoulders, as well as a belt of them around her waist. Paired with her necklace from her father, Sansa was ready to face his judgement.

Arya went running out to announce her like they were at a feast, where the men in their family were waiting to break their fast. Jon and their father looked confused as could be, while Bran went with the spectacle easily. Sansa waited to walk out until her sister's theatrics came to a height.

Their father stood quickly from the table, his hand flying to his mouth.

Jon and Bran were quick to tell her how beautiful she looked, but Sansa was frozen under their father's gaze. She squared their shoulders, though wishing that the Quiet Wolf would simply say something. He might not have even been breathing, however.

"Father, I can…"

"You'll do no such thing," He whispered, then he seemed to shake himself out of it, "You look beautiful. Too perfect for words, Sweet Wolf."

She smiled, flushing, "Thank you."

Food was a quick affair. Jon left before the rest of them, almost skipping as he rushed off to tell his brother the sort of day he was in for. They went to pray, luckily everyone else was entirely too busy with preparations for the last two full days of the tournament, to pay them any attention.

They were back to the beginning, with the competitors returning to swordplay today. When they arrived at the grounds, Sansa spotted their block below the box, Griff and Loras playing more than they were practicing. In fact, when the Sword of the Morning tired of it, he simply out did the Knight of Flowers quickly, sending him off with a pop to the backside from Dawn, as if the sword were a switch. Both their Northern counterparts roared with laughter, until Jon signalled his brother to their party's arrival.

Her betrothed might not have been the first to see her, but he was certainly the only one that she cared about. His indigo eyes went so wide, they were all but blown black, and his mouth hung open. All his friends jested with him, Jon even reaching to tap at his gaping jaw.

Griff jogged across the field to them, once he shook himself out of it. He still looked a bit startled, but he made it, "My lady, might I beg a favor of the most beautiful woman alive, for this day of revelry?"

Sansa beamed at him and moved to put a third band of wolves around his left hand. Tomorrow, she knew that there would be three on his sword hand as well. He kissed her hand, before moving back across the field, though he couldn't seem to resist glancing back.

"Oh gods, he's going to trip on his own sword," Oberyn lamented playfully.

"Who could blame him?" Brynden laughed, "The Winter Rose is a distraction worth falling for."

"Thank you, Uncle," Sansa grinned at him.

The matches went on all day. She knew that by the end of the day, there would only be twenty contestants left. Weakness had been weeded out in the melee the day before and Arya and Bran learned more from the Blackfish during the fights then they had all week.

No one from the Westerlands made it into the final day of competition, as Griff disposed of Addam Marbrand after a hard fought match. Sansa beamed at him, when he approached with his favor, until she saw what it was and grew confused. There was no way, unless…

"I finally figured it out," He told her, as he crowned her with the wreath on winter roses, "When I saw you this morning, I knew when he fell for the Knight of the Laughing Tree."

"You…"

The winter roses were too perfect. She could swear to almost feeling the chill still on them.

"I pled my case to your brother and he sent the crown by raven," Aegon admitted, kissing her hand, "Along with his love. To remind you of home."

Sansa was struck speechless, even as he walked away, back to the competitors' box. He'd gotten her a wreath of winter roses, from Winterfell. She finally shook herself from it, when Arya called out.

"Well, I know who my favorite By Law will be," The shewolf cried, "Anyone who can render Sansa speechless is worthy of being a wolf!"

Their father told her off, but Sansa couldn't even bother to be irked. She sat between him and Shireen, unable to keep the smile off her face. When the Stark patriarch glanced to her, making sure the gift hadn't shaken her, the Winter Rose arched a flame kissed eyebrow at him, "Do we really have to wait until tomorrow?"

Ned shook his head, exasperated, but it was fond, "You'll make it… Please don't disappear in the night."

Oberyn leaned down with a grin, "And if you do, make for Dorne. Doran will be waiting."

Her father turned and shoved the Red Viper back to his row, hard. The two fought, mostly playfully, as Jon and Hobber Redwyne took to the field. Sansa shook her head at them.

When her father settled, she promised, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm just excited."

He smiled at her, nostalgically as he glanced to the crown, looking at her as he usually did Arya, "I'm glad. Tomorrow, you'll have him."

"You look like a painting, Sansa," Shireen whispered, "You're perfect!"

"You'll look just as perfect, when Jon wins."

Emotions were high during Jon's last match of the day. The Hand's son versus the Queen Incumbent's cousin was bound to draw every eye onto the field. Everyone was hard pressed to keep their mouth shut as they cheered obnoxiously for their champion. When the time finally came and the Redwyne's sword flew from his hand, even Ned Stark flew to his feet in celebration.

Glancing up at the royal station, though disappointment flashed across Margery's face, when she turned toward them, she took it gracefully. She clapped for Jon and smiled at Sansa, then stood to be next to the King. Robert had been shouting for his friend's son, if only he knew, but for the moment he was thrilled to see Jon win.

Her brother bestowed a crown of purple flowers, smaller than roses, because she was a little girl, on Shireen. Then, Sansa's father insisted that she have a painting done with him, in her dress, to be sent to Winterfell. After hours of posing, they were released to find their last meal of the day.

Dinner was an obnoxious affair, with Arya and Bran hanging all over Jon. There was a certain charge in the air that kept everyone awake hours past when they normally went to sleep. By the time Ned and Jaime finally banished all of them to bed, Sansa speculated that everyone would be hungover from sleep deprivation the next morning.

After a warm bath Arya passed out with Nymeria in Sansa's bed. There was still room for her, but barely, even as her good girl jumped up on the window seat instead of taking up more room. The older Stark daughter laid there for hours, unable to sleep.

Finally, she slipped into her silk robe, after deciding that a glass of wine might help.

She checked on Jon and Bran, who had both of their wolves in the bed, and who both snored. Unable to resist, Sansa also checked on Jaime, in what was supposed to be a smaller room for servants or nursemaids, but which was turned into a cell, then a bedroom, all in short order. He was fast asleep as well, with Brightroar right by his head, in case of any sort of alarm.

The wine was in a small nook right by Jaime's room, so Sansa poured herself a small glass. Taking a sip, her nose scrunched up as she turned to check on her father, having to admit that if this wasn't medicinal, then she'd have no part in it. Another fine lesson that she learned from Cersei.

It was dark and all the lights were put out, so tripping was a very real concern. She glanced up, only to find a pair of silver eyes staring at her, highlighted only by the moonlight from the window. The yip she released was none too ladylike and she was proud that she'd only filled the glass half way, otherwise she'd have been soaked.

Ned Stark smirked as he finally looked away from her, going back to cleaning Ice at the table, "Sleepless night?"

Finally able to breathe, Sansa did just that, as her hand went to her chest, "Indeed." She sat down at the table next to him, "What is that smirk for?"

"Just glad I've still got it," He admitted.

It took Sansa a moment to realize what he meant. The Quiet Wolf had never talked about how he got the name, not with his children at least, no matter the lifetime. She stared at him for a moment.

Once, she'd have given anything to ask him a million more questions. Since she came back, she'd had to be concerned about keeping her cover. Now, it seemed like the perfect chance, "How did you get your nickname? You've never told us."

"Maybe one day I'll have cause to show you, but I hope not."

That wasn't an answer, but Sansa heard the seriousness of his tone. She was quick to leave the topic behind, "Then what are you doing awake?"

He glanced up at her again and Sansa stared back evenly. She knew he could just be charged from the matches, but that didn't seem likely. As a matter of fact, the look that had been settled on her when she looked up had been weighted, extremely so.

"Honestly?" Ned demanded, polishing the sword for a moment more, before giving up, "I'm making sure you don't sneak out with your dragon and run for Dorne."

"Ouch," Sansa acknowledged that hurt. She understood, but Oberyn had just been making a joke.

"I'm sorry," He sighed, studying her, "You are so smart. So much smarter than her. I just… I don't want to see you make the same mistakes."

"I won't," Sansa told him, "I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell and I may be slow to learn, but I do learn. I won't leave a reckoning in my wake. I only want… I only want to do more good than harm."

Ned smiled, cupping her cheek, "You are going to be the most formidable Queen the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros ever saw."

The next morning, Arya seemed to sense that something wasn't right. She got herself ready quickly, in a charcoal tunic with red and blue trout around the sleeves and a big grey direwolf on the torso, staying quiet the entire time. Sansa did four braids down her sister's cranium, when the time came, with four tails, smiling when the girl declared how fierce she thought she looked.

Throwing on her dress, Sansa was at a loss for what to do with her hair. Tyene had given her no advice for the day, so she didn't know what to expect, if Aegon… Griff… Whatever she was calling him at the moment… What would happen if her betrothed won.

Finally, she just did a braid crown around the front and left the rest down. Once her ruby direwolf necklace and belt were in place, Sansa deemed herself ready to go.

There was a small orange potion next to her usual spot and an empty potion next to her father. When she inquired, Ned just shrugged, "From Varys. He said it's a good cure for lethargy."

"I adore that man, but he makes me sick."

Jon snorted, "She said before chugging the potion."

"Hush."

"Yes, sister."

"And don't lose."

"I'll do my best."

"And don't fight my betrothed."

"Take it up with the schedulers."

"And, even if the rest all fail, under no circumstances are you to get hurt."

"I'll inform the rest of the tourney of your request."

Bran snorted, "They'd probably all throw their swords down for Sansa."

"Wouldn't be as much fun to watch though," Arya argued.

"Alright, more food," Ned instructed, "Less chatter."

When Jon got ready to go, the maid was waved off by the Quiet Wolf, who strapped him into his armor, "Jon…"

"I know, Father."

They all watched him cup the young man's cheeks, "You'll do fabulously. You've never disappointed me."

By the time they finished praying, the potions were kicking in, and everyone felt more normal. The Tully's were so touched by the tributes to their house on both girls, that they wound up stealing the first row of seats as a family. The Baratheons, Dornish, and the Redwynes, as Lord Paxter had joined them to start negotiations with Edmure, sat on the second row.

It didn't appear as if there was too much to negotiate, as everyone soon descended into talk about the matches. With twenty participants left, the first round of matches would reduce that by half. There would be no favors given from the remaining knights until the Queen of Love and Beauty was named.

Griff Danye fought first of his block, after stopping by the box to obtain her favor once more, squaring off against Balon Swann. The King could cheer for the Stormlander all he wanted, the Swann and Kingsguard still wound up in the dirt. She cheered.

Soon everyone from their block had advanced. The other six remaining knights looked at the four wearily. As well they should have, as none of the four were going for anything less than being named champion.

There was a disturbance when two of the knights, a set of twins from the Iron Islands, killed three of the competitors. When they were drug away to the Black Cells at Robert's bellow, Margery hysterical as the men had been from the Reach, there was a break. The Small Council wound up crowding the royal station, debating if they should cancel the final few matches.

After Margery and Olenna were led away, the decision was made to continue. Everyone knew who was blocking together, no one had ever tried to be subtle about it, so the decision was made that, since Loras had won a match by forfeit earlier in the tournament, he'd fight the odd man out. Whoever of them won, would then face Aegon, after Jon fought Domeric.

After the butchering of the men from the Reach, Loras was angry and took it out on his opponent. Poor boy didn't have a prayer. The observers cheered his victory loudly.

Something of a normal atmosphere returned as Jon squared off against Domeric. Everyone was shouting for the White Wolf, especially the crowd in the lords' stands. Sansa joined in the joviality, but there was also a knot in her stomach. They were so close to what she did not want to happen.

The clash of their swords rang in her ears and Sansa watched, excited but horrified, as Bolton's sword flew from his hand. Jon stood victorious, Blackfyre to Domeric's chin.

Their father shouted happily, everyone in their box on their feet to cheer.

Domeric, truly a good sport, waved off the announcer. Then, he raised Jon's hand in victory himself, before embracing the White Wolf and leaving the field of battle. She had to admit, he was nothing like his brother.

Griff and Loras' match was a bit more sombre, even as her betrothed let the Knight of Flowers vent onto him for a few minutes. Rage wasn't enough though. The Dornishman was too good.

They squared off for half an hour, before Loras too fell to the might of the hidden dragon.

Amid the cheers, her betrothed still wandered over to pick his friend up, making sure he was alright. Loras waved off the announcer as well, not letting the day's tragedy keep him from honoring his friend, earning the favor of everyone of the Reach for the Sword of the Morning. It was clear they had bonded, which split the Baratheon brothers.

Robert was cheering for Jon, and Renly for Griff, as everyone set up for the final match. From what Sansa could tell, the top half of the Seven Kingdoms were cheering for her brother, while the bottom half cheered for her betrothed. She sat there trying not to sweat.

"They won't hurt each other, Sansa."

She looked to her father, "Of course not."

He chuckled, accepting that she wasn't going to stop worrying until it was over. 

Looking over at the competitors' stand, the brothers were shoulder to shoulder, with their backs to her. Curiosity peaked, Sansa wasn't shocked when their conversation rang through her ears on the wind, as if they were standing next to her. It made her smile.

"Do you want to win?"

"Of course I do."

"That's not what I meant."

"...Would you let me?"

"Of course I would. You're my baby brother."

"I want to win," Jon admitted, "But only if I'm the best."

"Well then, I guess we'll have to find out."

He offered to throw the match to let Jon win. That was not something she'd expected. But, there had been signs.

Being a big brother to Jon, although they had only met a week ago, was clearly an important part of Aegon's identity. He'd known who Ned Stark's bastard truly was his entire life. No competition was more important to him than the family that he had left.

She could let herself love him. He was the husband that she'd always dreamed of. Her true golden prince.

Ser Jon Snow, the White Wolf and bastard son of Ned Stark, squared his shoulders against Ser Griff Dayne, the new Sword of the Morning, as the match began. Sansa knew that talk would fly. Despite her betrothal, this was the match of a century.

And it took an hour.

Steel clashing felt as if it should be shaking the ground. Dawn versus Blackfyre, or, more broadly, valyrian steel to most people's knowledge. Their father was cheering Jon, while Oberyn screamed for his squire. The crowd joined them, from the King to peasant observers, everyone calling out for their champion.

In the end, it was her betrothed who stood victorious.

Their father shook it off quickly though and soon everyone was cheering the victorious champion, especially as Jon stood and raised his hand. Oberyn jumped the stands and ran onto the field, lifting his nephew's other hand, before embracing him. Sansa and her siblings hollered along with the crowd.

Robert waved for the champion's favor to be brought forward. He announced Ser Griff Dayne as champion to the Tourney of the Hand and once more thanked her father for his faithful service, before telling her betrothed to name his Queen of Love and Beauty. Though Sansa could feel the King's eyes on her, she only had time for her betrothed.

He carried another flower crown toward her, crossing the field on Sun Spot. This one was a mixture of white, red, and blue roses, perfectly matching her dress. Where the previous day had been full of history for them, not this time. This was their moment.

There was no playful banner or chatter this time. No courtesies flung at one another for the sake of show, as he stood still catching his breath from the match. Once the crown was safely fastened to her hair, he finally said something.

"Marry me?"

Sansa beamed, "I would love nothing more."

Of all the first kisses that she had ever received, the one she shared with Aegon made her feel warm all the way to her toes.


	5. Chapter 5

The weeks after the Tourney of the Hand completed were busy. At the party Oberyn threw in celebration of Aegon's victory, their betrothal contract was signed, making it a dual celebration, and Sansa could not have been happier. For once, she was marrying by choice.

Attention turned to the upcoming royal wedding, though Sansa did find Margery and lie in bed with her and Olenna the day after the tourney, mourning the three fallen Reach knights. One had, apparently, been family. Their bodies were sent back home, heroes that fell to a second slight by the Iron Born, but life had to move on. 

Making wedding favors in the garden was busy work for all of them, even little Shireen, but the golden silk roses were lovely. It became obvious that the girl had never had a mother and Sansa had to give Margery credit that she seemed eager to fill that roll. As time moved on and the wedding got closer, Renly also started to show up in the garden more and more, along with Loras.

She could see why she'd been fond of the youngest Baratheon brother, even as a tot. He was charming, enthusiastic, and a well trained conversationalist. Her betrothed was more intelligent and wise, but Renly would make a decent place holder as King, with a good Small Council.

About a month after the tourney, her aunt sent out confirmation of her engagement to Petyr Baelish, who had not arrived at the Eyrie yet. On the same day that the announcement arrived, so did a rage letter from Yohn Royce, venting his frustration with the woman to Sansa's father. She felt for the man, she truly did.

Soothing the wrath of the Vale lords was the confirmation that Ysilla Royce had married Robb and was officially situated in Winterfell as the new lady of the great keep. It was sad that the North was doing more for the territory then their own lady regent, but it had given them something to celebrate. Sansa also traded letters with her big brother and he confirmed that, in addition to marrying Ysilla before the Laughing Tree, he'd married her before the Seven in their mother's Sept. If Robb didn't have her heart yet, he soon would.

Their father had changed plans slightly, relenting his title as Warden of the North to Robb by raven, after the attack. Though, Arya would still be delivering Ice to him. It was necessary as Catelyn Stark was making her way to King's Landing with Theon and Rickon in tow.

All the more, things were going splendidly as the wedding got closer. The Gold Company was known to be on Dragonstone, awaiting Theon to take the Iron Islands and, according to Aegon, his surrogate father was excited for some action.

So, when one of Varys' orphans came into the garden and started whispering in Jon's ear, she wasn't immediately alerted. It wasn't until he turned to her, pale as Ghost's fur, that Sansa put her needlework down, "What is it?"

Jon sighed, crossing the stonework to kneel in front of her, "Sansa, there is bad news…"

"Mother?!"

Margery, who was sitting next to her, grabbed her hand. Even Olenna perched sharply on her seat at the table, away from their bench, grabbing Shireen's hand where the girl had been laying with the wolves at the Queen of Thorns' feet. None of them breathed as he shook his head.

"No, it's your aunt. Lysa… Sansa, her fiance, Baelish, was attacked by the mountain clans; he didn't make it. She… She flung herself from the moon door."

She gasped. Never had Sansa suspected that her aunt would do such a thing. Not with, "Robin? Where… Who…"

"Easy, sister," Jon encouraged, gripping her other hand, "I won't lie, he was distraught. Apparently he ran after and would have followed her, but Yohn Royce grabbed him."

"Oh thank the gods," She gasped, hand flying to cover her mouth.

Sansa didn't resist and Margery and Tyene both hugged her, the Rose of Highgarden pulling her close to her chest, and the Sand Snake laying against her back. She cried for a few minutes, because part of her knew that it was her fault, but never did she… Lysa was so protective of Robin, how could she just…

Apparently the Queen of Thorns was thinking much the same, "Losing all the Vale over a man? Ridiculous!"

"Grandmother!"

"No, she's right!" Sansa hissed, pulling away, settling into anger, "She had a little boy! Don't get me wrong he's the same age as Shireen and still sucking at her breast, but to just leave him!"

"See?! Wolf's got a good head on her shoulders!" The woman sat back, "Sounds like they'll have to have someone raise the boy and run the Vale."

"Where is Father?"

"Emergency Small Council," Jon rolled his eyes, "Might as well move them all in there."

"Arya and Bran?"

"Tower."

"Do they know?"

"I think he and Varys were hoping you would…"

"Of course," She started to rise, "My ladies, please excuse me?"

"I'll go with you," Tyene offered.

"If there is anything we can do, Sansa…"

"Thank you, Margery," She held the other girl tightly.

Olenna said nothing but gave her a tight squeeze before letting her turn to Shireen. The poor girl offered her condolences and let the wolves trail them to the Tower of the Hand without complaint. Sansa very carefully kept her face neutral as they moved through the keep, well aware that all eyes were on her.

Bran and Arya had never met Lysa, they didn't know a thing about her, so they were none too broken up by the news. When a stone faced Blackfish and sobbing Edmure Tully arrived at their apartment, Sansa was fast to pour them wine and play mother. The apartment was full with all four of Ned Stark's children, his By Laws, the Sand Snakes, and four wolves.

"She was never strong like your mother or you," Brynden Tully scoffed, "None too bright, either."

"Uncle!" Edmure admonished.

"Well, it's the truth!"

"She's gone! At least don't speak so ill of her."

"I'm more worried about the impact on her son left behind," Sansa admitted, "He must feel so alone, so confused."

"Might have a shot at being a decent lord now, though."

"Uncle!"

"Well, it's the truth!"

They went around in a similar fashion until her father returned. For once it was prior to the evening meal, probably only due to his family tragedy, and he had Oberyn with him. The Stark patriarch looked exhausted.

"Father," She stood and hugged him as tightly as possible.

Ned squeezed her back, relieved to be back in his apartments. He confessed as he dropped to the seat at the head of the table, everyone else joining him, "This is a mess. I won't lie."

"What does the King want done?"

"He's sent a letter to Cat, where she and Theon were camped, informing her of the situation," He sighed, "He wants her to divert to the Vale and get Sweet Rob, bring him and Yohn to King's Landing."

"To what end?" Edmure questioned.

There was a knock on the door and Sansa hurried to answer. It was Desmera and, since the woman's own betrothal contract was signed, she waved the other redhead inside.

"I'm so sorry to intrude, I just wanted to see you," She admitted once in the heir to the Riverlands' arms, "Margery told me what happened."

"You'll be family soon enough," Brynden huffed, "Might as well be warned about the weak link of the family."

"Uncle!"

"Well, it's the truth!"

Jon snorted and had to hide a laugh behind his hands. Sansa shook her head, even as everyone had to agree with the Blackfish. They all shoved in at the table, but with twelve it was packed.

"This is ridiculous," Oberyn noted, "You three go home. Warn Griff and Ellaria of what has happened!"

The Sand Snakes griped, but hugged the Starks and took off quickly enough.

"Well, we have to put a regent in place, but I'm trying to recommend it be a dual partnership," Ned continued.

"What sort of partnership?" Edmure jumped in.

"Yohn Royce is the man to keep the Vale going," Ned put forth, "Especially with Robb and his daughter married, but by all accounts Robin's raising has been…"

He trailed off, not knowing how to end that sentence without it being offensive. Brynden Tully had no such qualms, "Abysmal? Atrocious? Despicable beyond all reason?"

Ned just continued without confirming or denying the proposed endings, "I've recommended that Cat take over as regent."

"You and Mother were supposed to be able to stay here together!" Arya burst in defense of them.

Sansa was glad someone expressed how much they would be sacrificing. Her mother had raised five good children; she'd done her duty. Getting saddled with her sister's was an insult. Their father deserved to have his wife here, as hard as he was working day in and out.

Still, "Family, duty, honor, Arya. The order is very particular."

"Sansa is right, Arya," Ned smiled at his oldest, who was so much like her mother, "Besides, from the reports we've gotten… Well, having Rickon there might help Robin catch up to others his age."

"I'm riding to the Vale," Brynden announced, "Bran, you're coming with me."

"I'll go too."

"No, you stay here and marry your Redwyne," He instructed his nephew, "Your father isn't getting any younger. We need you strong and in the Riverlands, should anything happen."

"Yes, Uncle."

"Good lad," He nodded, rising, "We depart for home on schedule. As soon as the royal couple say their vows. There will just be a stop to get Cat settled with the children in the Eyrie."

Her father agreed at seeing his son's excitement.

"Ned," Her uncle sighed, "Let me tell Cat?"

Hesitant though he was, her father consented. Sansa thought that was smart. Her mother would take it better coming from her family.

The Blackfish and Bran rode out of the Red Keep at first light the next morning, to meet up with their mother's party and make for the Vale. Sansa watched them go, before heading to pray in the godswood with her father and Jon, teary eyed. She didn't realize why she was so emotional, it certainly wasn't over Lysa once the shock wore off, before she remembered her moonblood.

Mourning was a great excuse to lay low for a couple of days. She hung around the apartment happily, checking on everyone in their household, and relaxing for the first time since she arrived in King's Landing. Her betrothed even showed up with lemon cakes and more of Oberyn's potions at one point, and Sansa had to admit that she felt a bit in love just then, perhaps with the goods more than Aegon, but it was love all the same.

It took another month to prepare the wedding for Edmure and Desmera, though it was nothing like the royal wedding. Though it was in the Great Sept, everyone knew that they were also marrying for security, after the Tully family tragedy. Still, it was something to celebrate.

Sansa wore her final dress from the tourney and Margery wore the dress she'd worn when announced as Queen Incumbent. There was a small feast afterward, in which many gifts were given, but most were preparing for the royal wedding that was a month away. As a result, no one batted an eye when the two friends danced more with one another than their betrothed gentlemen; Margery due to the fact that Robert couldn't keep up, and Sansa because the Dornish only made a quick appearance.

After all, they weren't tied to the Riverlands, not publically anyway. Not until Sansa was officially married.

Sansa traded ravens with her mother, who was hurt and angry and in mourning. It took almost another month for funeral rites to be held in the Eyrie and for the grown party to make their way to King's Landing. The dream she had of them being attacked on the King's road, almost had Sansa in tears when she finally gasped awake.

"Give us all your jewels or the boy's throat gets cut!"

They had Robin, who had done the exact opposite of what the Blackfish ordered, unlike Bran and Rickon. They were at a standstill with the bandits at her cousin's capture and Sansa thought that they were about to have to do as the men demanded. That was when an arrow came from nowhere and pierced the bastard in the shoulder, releasing the Arryn heir from his grasp.

Her mother grabbed him, putting him back behind her with Rickon. Bran had bravely taken a stance in front of them, a last line of defense before anyone was getting to his family. With them safe, the tides turned.

Stark and Tully guards set to making an example out of the bandits. Those that tried to run over a hill were forced back by men riding in to pinch them between the two parties, hosting a red bannister with a roaring golden lion. Lannister archers had saved her cousin.

"Lady Stark! A pleasure, as always!"

"Lord Tyrion," Catelyn looked relieved to see him, "Your timing could not be more splendid! What are you doing in the Vale?"

"Ahh, well, now that my uncle has regency at the Rock," He shrugged, "I've been taking a bit of a tour around Westeros, seeing its wonders. I was so sorry to hear you lost your sister, my lady."

"I appreciate that, Lord Tyrion," Catelyn seemed to think about it for a moment, "I would love to show you the Eyrie, but we were actually just making our way to King's Landing."

"Ahh, then it would seem my timing has been poor after all."

"Well, I would actually like to invite you to King's Landing with us."

Sansa knew instantly that her mother knew. About Jon, Aegon, and Jaime. All of them.

"I do not think I was invited to the Royal Wedding, Lady Catelyn."

"No, but you're welcome in the Tower of the Hand," She explained, "Your father had your brother moved there, until he could be transported to Castle Black. He would love to see you."

And, so, twenty Lannister guards joined the twenty guards from House Stark and the twenty from House Tully, along with the Knights of the Vale. 

Sansa woke up and got rooms prepared. There was one last set of rooms in the Hand's apartments that they hadn't used and she put Jaime there, so that he could share with Tyrion, since he couldn't leave. Edmure and Desmera were in the honeymoon suite of the Tower, so the Blackfish would have the Tully rooms in the lower level to himself, though he was probably going to keep Bran with him upon his return. That meant that she just had to figure out where to put Robin and Rickon. 

To help her, Jon got himself invited to stay with the Dornish. Sansa cursed him for leaving her, but he pointed out that they had no more room, unless he stayed in the small room that had been Jaime's, when the Golden Lion was just a prisoner. With the truth revealed to her mother, Sansa scorned that idea to the deepest of hells, and permitted him to go spend more time with his brother.

She had no idea what to do with Theon.

Still, the day before the party was expected to arrive, Sansa was walking Jon and Aegon out of the tower, on the arm of each. All of Jon's things had been packed and were loaded onto his dark steed, Charcoal, or Char, and Sun Spot. Ghost stood happily between the horses, ready to go.

"You can't desert me like this!" Sansa was on her moonblood again, emotional, and miserable, "Take me with you!"

"Nothing would make me happier, love," Aegon acknowledged, "But your father would butcher the both of us."

"Aye, Father would string us up from atop the tower."

"Ugh, I love my mother," She hissed, "But I do not want to be back under her thumb after nine months of running things."

"I don't envy you," Jon admitted.

"Try to think of it as a break from running things, Sansa," Her betrothed encouraged, "After all, you, Ty, and Desmera are helping Margery with last minute preparations for two more days."

"That's true."

"And you've got Uncle Obie's potions," He reminded, "Take one at night and you'll be out like a light."

"Also true," She sighed, "Fine. But, don't for one second think Arya and I are happy about this!"

"Yeah!" The shewolf in question put her two gold dragons in where she was trailing behind them, "You two get to go to paradise, while we're stuck with Mother!"

It was late and Ned Stark was just getting back to the tower from Small Council, "Oh come now, girls, aren't you excited to see your mother?"

"Of course, seeing her is wonderful," Arya said sincerely, "It's living with her that makes us want to jump out the moon door ourselves."

"Arya!"

"Actually," Sansa laughed, "I couldn't have said it better myself."

"We'll get through this. Everyone just cooperate," Ned instructed, turning to fuss over Jon, "Are you sure you have everything? We can still make room…"

"Father, I'm fine," He laughed, brushing the man's hands off where the Quiet Wolf was worrying over his cloak, "I'm staying with the Dornish, not going to Dorne. Don't worry so much."

"I'll see you in the training yard tomorrow, aye?"

"Aye, Little Wolf. You help Sansa stay sane now, understand? Don't give her any trouble?"

"I suppose."

The siblings all hugged and Aegon grinned at them. Sansa kissed her betrothed before their party of three watched both dragons race out of the Red Keep. They were certainly a sight.

That night everything felt so empty, especially for how crowded the Tower of the Hand was about to be. She wound up having a drink with Jaime that night, as the Golden Lion couldn't sleep either. No one but Jon and Arya knew about her visions, so she couldn't warn him that Tyrion was coming, but they did have a nice conversation.

The Jaime before her hadn't lost a hand and he'd found hope. Cersei wasn't all he cared about anymore. He fawned over Jon and Aegon, as if they were his own, and had developed a soft spot for Arya as well.

Her father had traded several ravens with Benjen and they decided that Jaime would take no vows at Castle Black. The Golden Lion would stay there until Aegon took the throne, then her betrothed would pardon the Lannister's crimes as his father would have. He'd be able to inherit the Rock and act as regent for Tommen.

Sansa listened when he talked about his fears for Myrcella being cursed to a poor marriage, because of her parents' choices. There wasn't much they could do at the moment, but the girl was still so young. They had plenty of time to find someone decent.

They were in the throne room once more, when their mother's party arrived. Robert was on a weeklong hunt, to celebrate his upcoming wedding, so once more it was Ned Stark on the throne. Everyone enjoyed the wistful way the Quiet Wolf smiled at seeing his wife for the first time in ten months.

It was probably the first time a man in love had sat their arse on the Iron Throne, since before Aerys became the Mad King. Though she wasn't looking forward to being looked at as a child again, the love between her parents made Sansa beam. They were everything that she wanted in a marriage.

Though it wasn't proper, Ned rose from the throne to kiss his wife. Everyone cheered for the adorable couple. They were even more excited when little Rickon broke from their uncle to jump on their father, who held him tight on his hip. Since tradition had already gone to hell, Bran broke from his place next to the Blackfish, when he saw Sansa and Arya doing the same from the gathered court.

They must have made quite the sight, a happy family standing before the throne.

Once they had been happily reunited and Ned resumed his place, Sansa led her family back to the Tower of the Hand. Embracing Theon and calling him Sea Wolf, she was relieved when he announced he'd been invited to stay with the Blackfish and Bran. She wasn't surprised when Tyrion was waiting outside of their home, having skipped the throne room. It had been the smart thing to do.

With him was Yohn Royce, who also happily accepted Brynden Tully's invitation to stay with him. That meant they were officially filled to capacity. All rooms in the Tower of the Hand were occupied.

Arya disappeared with the Blackfish, Theon, and Bran for the training yard, Dacey trailing behind them as a guard, which left Sansa and her mother to get their party settled. Knowing both of the younger boys were antsy, Catelyn sent Rickon and Robin running after the party. They needed to be worn out and she was trying to get Robin used to more masculine pursuits, which led to Lord Royce going too.

Their discussion of just how poorly the little Arryn had been raised was enlightening; it was worse than Sansa expected.

They started with getting the sixty guards situated in the barracks, before going to the Tully rooms to make sure there were no problems getting Bran and Brynden situated. Sansa also made sure all Theon's things got there. Finally they got back to the Hand's apartments, making sure the attendants were unpacking everything in the correct rooms.

Tyrion and Jaime had a tearful reunion. The Golden Lion had been told that his brother and his younger children were dead while in the Black Cells. Though he believed her father, seeing the younger man was a balm no one else could offer, and they disappeared into their room quickly.

Sansa was so busy getting her mother's things settled that she didn't notice the woman become struck at the two paintings hanging in her father's solar. She turned and studied Catelyn Tully for a moment, before wandering over to take the crying lady's arms, "He insisted on both."

"As well he should have," Her mother sniffed, "You looked so beautiful."

The first paint was just of them, Sansa and her father. It was beautiful and the day she wore her dress of weirwood leaves and winter roses. He wanted to send it back to Winterfell with Arya and Ice.

The other had been a surprise. The next day, when she was named her betrothed's Queen of Love and Beauty, the Quiet Wolf had insisted on having a second done. Sansa had been surprised, thinking it too extravagant, but her father had insisted that, since it was his tourney, they'd allow him that one luxury. So, she had insisted all her siblings join them too.

Their father looked strong and imposing, holding Ice for one final painting, underhand on the same arm that she'd been holding. Arya and Bran stood in front of him, still shorter than the sword, and Jon was at his other shoulder, in his wolf cloak, holding Blackfyre in the same fashion as their father; the only sign of his hidden identity. They made a stunning portrait that would hang in this tower forever.

"Thank you, Mother."

"And where is Jon? I was expecting to see him."

The regret was so thick in the air, Sansa could taste it. She smiled, "He went to stay with his Dornish family in their villa."

"I wouldn't want to see me either."

"That wasn't it, Mother!" Sansa sighed and sat down on her father's bed, "He and Bran had been staying in Rickon and Robin's room. He wanted to make space for everyone."

"I spent my entire life wanting to know what Jon's mother had that I didn't," Cat admitted, sitting next to her daughter, "And now, I find out there was no competition. Wild as Lyanna was… I liked her. If I'd known…"

"You do now," Sansa encouraged, "Everything will be okay."

After a moment, the older woman turned to her, and the hair on the back of Sansa's neck stood up, "I spoke with Tyrion on the way here, about his escape from Winterfell."

She raised her chin, offering no apology.

Her mother smiled, cupping her cheek, "A girl left me and I arrived to a grown woman. I'm so proud of you, Sansa."

They embraced and chatted about the Starks' adventures in King's Landing thus far. Then, Sansa heard all about Robb's marriage and the Battle for White Harbor. Ysilla had their mother's utmost blessing and was, by all accounts, a perfect fit for her brother. Having been married for almost three months, now, there was already an anxious wait for the next heir to Winterfell.

"And what about my oldest daughter?" Catelyn finally inquired, as they unpacked her things in Ned's room, despite the fact that she'd only be here for a brief time, "Tell me of your… Dayne?"

"He's charming and gentle," Sansa smiled, sitting back in the bed with a wistful sigh, "But he's also a fierce fighter and very intelligent."

"What do you call him?"

"I tend to avoid it," She confessed, "But here, or in the villa, he likes to hear me call him 'Aegon,' and when I'm talking about him, I use Griff."

"You'll make an excellent queen, my girl."

"So will Margery. I will be helping her with the final day of wedding preparations tomorrow. Will you join us?"

They wound up having a great evening together as a family. Rickon was rambunctious. Before the children returned, Sansa's mother told her all about how their youngest wolf and Robin met, the Wild Wolf backing the Vale heir against a wall with his sharpened training sword, citing that a name protected him against no steel and the brat needed to learn to use both. The quote from Robb made her smile.

The next day, Catelyn was introduced to Margery and Olenna. The Rose of Highgarden absolutely adored having a motherly figure around and she barely let the Starks leave their side the day before her wedding. The previous Lady of Winterfell was fierce and gentle in a way more similar to Margery, while Sansa loved verbally sparring with Olenna. The competency with which the four of them were accomplishing the royal wedding made everyone smile, after they suffered the madness that had been Cersei.

Arya had been putting off a discussion of her outfit for the wedding for months. Sansa made her a dress, but she saw the confrontation come to a loud head when their mother pushed the morning of the wedding. Her sister wound up slamming the door to their room, upset, and Sansa stood to fix the mess.

She had three more days with her little sister and no one, not even their mother, was going to make them fight with each other.

Sansa knocked, announcing herself, and was bid to enter. She knew that this was hard for Arya. The girl finally felt good about who she was, accepted by their father and brothers and Sansa. Now that was being challenged.

"It is just a dress," Sansa told her, sighing as she sat down on the bed, "Wear it and I'll have a matching dagger made to go with Jon's. You'll carry both north, to Winterfell and Mormont Island."

"Really?"

Sansa smiled, unwilling to reveal that such a blade was already on commission, "Yes. After all, we can't let all my hard work go to waste, can we?"

So, she helped the younger girl dress in a blue silk dress with river waves along the bottom, sleeves, and pearls accenting the bodice. It was simple for the royal wedding, but more than extravagant for Arya. Sansa pulled her hair into the four braids that her sister liked, though she left the tails free flowing, clipping them all in place with her own silver wolf pendants.

Once the girl was ready, Sansa presented her with no flourish, though everyone gave her compliments all around. Her sister happily sat next to their father to chat until they had to leave. She and the younger boys were all ready, so their mother moved to help Sansa and vice versa.

Their father looked handsome, in a brisk white tunic with snarling grey wolves facing each other on each breast, a likeness to Ice down each sleeve, and silver around the sleeves. Black pants completed the look, along with his wolf cloak. Luckily the approaching winter made for a chill in the air, so it was bearable to wear, even in King's Landing.

Bran was wearing a grey tunic with a red and blue trout on each breast, showing his new status as the Blackfish's apprentice, where the man was lounging around their main room in all black, per usual. Rickon was adorable in dark grey, accented with white stitching, and Robin matching him in a blue tunic with white. Sansa had helped their mother come up with something the previous night, since the boys had been without something proper to wear.

Her mother was elegant as ever in Tully blue, her dress housing grey direwolves chasing each other around the bottom, sleeves, and waist. The dress housed red stitching and Sansa was sure she saw her father unable to look away. They hadn't separated until much too late the previous night, so the Red Wolf was sure her parents would be having their own celebration after the royal wedding.

They hadn't had the chance to show off their dresses the previous day, given how much time they'd spent with Margery, so Sansa was delighted when her mother gasped. She thought her new gown for today was lovely too. It had certainly taken long enough to make.

It was made of the shimmering silver material that she'd used to accent her final dress for the tourney, but Sansa had stitched glittering white snowflakes all over it. The sleeves were halfway down her forearms and were trimmed in white fur, as was the bottom on the skirt, and the entire dress had lavender stitching. The corset that she'd made to wear on top also had white fur on both ends, and it was laced with lavender ribbon. She'd paired it with the first necklace Aegon had given her during the tourney and Lord Varys' bracelet.

Her mother braided her hair into an elaborate northern style, because she confessed that her betrothed was fond of them. The maiden Tully expressed how she'd steal the spotlight even from Margery. It was nice to have her mother getting her ready again, as much as Sansa had been dreading being under the woman's thumb once more.

The Tullys, Starks, Lord Royce, and Theon conjoined in the Tower's entryway. Catelyn took the time to fuss over her pretty new good sister, who had mixed Tully blue and Redwyne purple beautifully. Desmera would make a lovely Lady of Riverrun, when the time came.

The sound of a stampede outside alerted them to the arrival of the Dornish party. Catelyn quickly looked out the window, spotting the hidden dragons instantly, where they rode side by side. Now that she knew, it was like a flare.

"You were right," She admitted to Sansa, "It's striking, the similarity."

The girl giggled.

"What a beautiful day for a wedding!"

Ned rolled his eyes at Oberyn, "Indeed."

The Hand of the King introduced the Red Viper, his paramour, and the Sand Snakes to his lady wife, before introducing them to his new By Law in Lord Royce and the kids. Rickon was as taken with the legendary warrior as Bran and Arya had been. Ellaria and Obara were making sure to tell the younger Stark daughter how nice she looked, knowing she'd take it better from other women warriors.

Catelyn Stark, one of the most traditional women that Sansa had ever known no matter the lifetime, had a sentimental moment at meeting Ellaria Sand, “Thank you for looking out for her.”

“It was my genuine pleasure,” The woman smiled and embraced her.

Sansa was kissing Aegon, when her mother made a break for Jon. Her brother looked very handsome in his black tunic emblazoned with a white wolf and trimmed in silver. She hoped her mother wouldn't muck the conversation up.

"I'm so sorry, Jon."

Simple and true, a smart way to go.

Her betrothed tensed underhand and Sansa rubbed his shoulders. She was sure Jon had told him plenty over the last couple nights and wouldn't begrudge him the right to be protective. That's what big brothers were supposed to do.

"Lady Stark, no. You didn't…"

"You were a motherless boy. Even if it had been true," She whispered, "You were innocent. But, I never could…"

"We're alright," He smiled, even if it was grim, "I'm just glad we both know the truth."

Catelyn moved to hug him and was received warmly enough, "I'll make it up to you somehow, nephew."

"I think you just did… Aunt Cat."

They grinned at each other and Sansa almost cried. Never, even when she was thrown back in time, had she thought to see this sort of peace settle between the two of them. It warmed her heart.

When her mother turned, Sansa remembered that Jon wasn't the only dragon to catch the woman's interest. Aegon didn't freeze though, grinning as he moved to kiss the older woman's hand, "Lady Stark, I have heard so much about you. It's an honor to finally make your acquaintance."

"Oh yuck," Jon gagged.

"The honor is all mine, Ser," Cat studied him for a moment, "Well, at least I'll have the easiest claim to the prettiest grandchildren in Westeros."

"Cheers to that!" Oberyn called from behind them.

"Alright, we have to get moving," Ned called everyone to order.

Their party was large and obnoxious, as they moved toward the Great Sept of Baelor. Northerners, Dornishmen, Riverlanders, and Valemen, along with a stray Iron Islander, and hidden Crownland dragons, all heading for the royal wedding as a group. No one else knew it, but the remaining children of Tywin Lannister were sequestered in their room getting drunk.

Their mother hadn't known what to think of her husband's bond with Jaime Lannister. She had giggled at the way he mothered the children though. It was odd, but everyone was getting along.

Sansa thought that Aegon looked very handsome in his grey tunic and trousers. He had white swords down his arms, similar to her father's outfit, and a white star on the back of the shirt, while all the stitching was lavender. Silky hair was pulled back into a lavender ribbon and Dawn was ever at his side.

Her father was carrying Ice for a final formal occasion, just as Jon had Blackfyre. It would be a fool who would try to take on this party. They were an impressive lot of military accomplishments.

The Sept was decorated in flowers of every color, though there was a prominence on gold, as well as antlers. Banners for House Tyrell and House Baratheon flew from the high ceilings. Given their father's station, he'd been invited to sit with the younger Baratheon brothers.

While he and their mother took their place, Sansa sat with the rest of their family on the second row, while the Dornish and Lord Royce took up the third. She was transferred from her betrothed's arm to Jon's, for the duration of the ceremony. The rest of the attending nobility filed in later.

Margery's family sat on the first row across the aisle from them. Olenna looked happy enough from her place on Loras' arm, while Mace had to be with Margery. Sansa was sure they'd had a long morning of gifts and preparations.

Everything got started when Robert and the septon took their place. The King looked well enough, and sober, in black slacks a gold tunic emblazoned with the royal sigil on the back. Sansa was sure that the wedding feast would be an entirely different story.

The initial reading from  _ The Seven Pointed Star  _ took more time then an entire wedding in the North. The younger children were sitting between Sansa and Uncle Brynden, but both were concerned they weren’t going to make it in terms of patience.The Red Wolf started to speculate that weddings in the North took place at night because they were quick and to the point; they’d already be at the feast by the time Margery appeared.

As the man was closing the prayer, Sansa and Jon both rolled their eyes, happening to meet glances. It made them both grin devilishly at one another, relieved someone else was thinking what each of them were. This was just too much.

Aegon was lucky she was looking forward to marrying him, or Sansa would not be putting up with this again. She was barely tolerating the thought now. Perhaps there was a shortened version that they could go with?

When the bride finally appeared, Sansa had to say that she was lovely beyond words. The ivory silk dress was dazzling, with lovely golden roses and their green stems seeming to sprout from the bottom, while black sheer antlers donned around her waist. After the conspiracy that had been Cersei’s marriage to the King, there was a push for the Rose of Highgarden to proclaim her allegiance to House Baratheon.

Though her hair was a style from the Reach, brown locks were pinned in an updo by golden stags. Sansa estimated that it took at least a couple of hours to perfect. It was a great look on Margery.

Mace brought her down the aisle and Sansa caught the beaming smile between the Rose of Highgarden and the Queen of Thorns. Once the happy couple were together, it was finally time to get the ceremony moving forward. Thank the old gods, because the new had clearly caused this travesty.

“You may cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

The maiden cloak of House Tyrell was exchanged for a golden cloak of House Baratheon. Robert was decent enough to keep the maiden cloak folded over his forearm. It was a gentlemanly thing to do, which was perhaps why Sansa was surprised.

The septon continued quickly, “"My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever."

Or, at least until the funeral.

"Let it be known that His Grace, King Robert of House Baratheon and Lady Margery of House Tyrell, are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder."

Sansa rolled her eyes, as the ribbon was tied, doubting that curse counted if the bride’s family was against the union. After all, the Pact of the Seventh existed for a reason. She just wanted them to move this along.

"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity."

Ribbon undone, he bid them to say the words of the Seven.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…” They both started together.

Robert’s deep baritone recited, “I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

Margery beamed, “I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” Robert offered, stepping closer to share a kiss with Margery.

They turned toward the uproarious crowd holding hands. Sansa speculated that much of the cheering was because the ceremony was over, but she’d never say as much. Once they were in the royal carriage, all of the attending nobles started toward the Red Keep, for the enormous feast that would last throughout the night. Sansa was back on her betrothed’s arm, as the gathered party headed back toward the castle, with the Baratheons added to their party.

“I don’t know what that look was,” Oberyn cited, where he was walking next to Sansa, with Ellaria on his arm, “But it’s been killing him to know, since before the bride appeared.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sansa dismissed.

“Liar!” Jon accused with a laugh, where he was trailing behind. He was carrying Shireen on his hip, as the walk was a lot for someone her age. It was just as well, because their father was carrying Rickon up ahead of them and their mother had Robin.

The little girl was adorable in her Florent blue dress with gold accents.

Sansa rolled her eyes, “Alright, we may share the opinion that weddings of the Seven are unnecessary long.”

“That septon thought much of himself,” Stannis agreed curtly, “I’ve seen them much shorter.”

“Will you ever remarry, Lord Stannis?”

“An excellent question, Sansa,” Olenna declared as they all walked into the great room hosting the feast, “I’ve got several young ones still looking!”

“Dorne also has several available ladies, Lord Baratheon might be interested in,” Oberyn told the party, “It would be helpful in your siege on the Iron Islands, given our Essosi relations.”

It was the political intrigue that seemed to win over the Master of Laws’ interest. He and the Red Viper were quickly sequestered in a corner to discuss the issue, but Olenna took it in stride, wandering over to bug Loras and Renly. The band was still playing introductory music as they waited for everyone to arrive.

“I promise, when we marry, I’ll make sure the officiator keeps things to the point,” Aegon informed her, as he returned from getting them wine.

“I’ll hold you to that,” She teased.

“What are wedding ceremonies in the North like? I’ve tried to research it, but information is scarce.”

“That's because if you don’t already know the tradition, it doesn’t concern you,” Sansa admitted. Traditions in the North were very sacred, “It’s usually officiated by the groom’s father, while the bride’s father leads her to the heart tree.”

“Would you marry me before the old gods and the new?”

“Yes,” Sansa confirmed, as the announcer introduced Robert and Margery for the first time.

Though Margery’s coronation was not until the following week, she was officially considered the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, now that she was married to Robert. A cheer rang through the room as the bride and groom appeared. As was tradition they cut the pigeon pie, before sharing their first dance. Sansa speculated it would be damn near their only dance, as well.

Her mother and father took to the dance floor next, before her Dornishman led her out as well. Soon everyone was dancing, drinking, and enjoying the chance to be merry. The kingdom was stable and this marriage was seen as a fresh start for the Baratheon legacy.

An hour or so after the festivities started, Sansa found Robin and Rickon standing on the edge of the room, sneaking sweets. She didn’t bother to scold them, thinking there were so many worse things to catch boys at this age doing. The party was so lively that she hadn’t noticed the odd child out, who was sitting dejectedly instead of dancing, until her little brother pointed her out.

“Why does Shireen look so sad?”

“I suppose no one asked her to dance.”

“Why not?”

Sansa sighed, “Well… They might be scared of her face. Many people are rude and think it’s a bad omen.”

“That’s stupid,” Rickon determined after a moment to think it through, “She’s pretty, it’s just a part of her face.”

“I think so too,” Sansa agreed, appraising him, “What are you going to do about it?”

His scarlet head tilted, as if trying to figure out a solution. Finally, he squared his shoulders and took off for the little Baratheon without another word. Sansa grinned, watching him bow politely and ask her to dance.

“Very nicely done, Lady Sansa,” Renly noted, coming up to stand next to her.

“I thought so,” She grinned at him. Looking down she realized that Robin looked quite put out at losing his cousin, “Why don’t you go and join the other kids in dancing, Sweet Rob?”

He flushed, pouting, “I don’t know how.”

“Oh…” That was a bit odd for one his age, but still, “Well, go ask Shireen to teach you. She seems quite apt at it.”

As he took off excitedly, Sansa took Renly’s offered arm. Her betrothed had been informed that Nymeria wanted to dance, and he was one of the few men tall enough to make her feel short, so she’d lost his company for a bit. Dancing with Renly was effortless, though, as he was light on his feet and very fond of her. 

They shared several dances, before Sansa went to do a round checking on the younger Stark children. Bran was very popular with the young ladies around his age, those from the Riverlands were especially attentive to the Blackfish’s new squire, and Arya had even been persuaded to dance with the likes of Jon, Theon, and Oberyn. She was just passing by the youngest children, where they had grouped near the stage in their adorable dresses and flashy tunics, when someone seized her.

She didn’t panic at first, thinking that it was her betrothed being cute, but when a blade was flush against her throat, Sansa knew that it was no such jesting. The wedding party at large gasped, everyone freezing. Both Aegon and Jon pulled their swords, as did many of the other knights in attendance, where she finally spotted them grouped with the Sand Snakes.

Sansa was entirely too close to the exit and she felt herself flood with panic. She cursed internally. What was the point of visions if they didn't warn her of impending abduction?

“Uncle, release her!”

It was Theon’s order that gave away who had her. Euron Greyjoy. Just her luck.

“Greyjoy, let her go!” Robert growled, stepping forward as menacing as he could.

“I think not! I’ll never let you put that traitor in Pyke,” He hissed, probably gesturing to Theon, “My, my, Robert, Winter Roses just tend to drop dead in proximity to you.”

“Greyjoy!”

All eyes, including her own and Euron’s, flew to her betrothed as he called out, sounding almost jovial. Sansa knew she was missing something when she saw the genuine smirk that crossed his face. She found out what it was in short order.

“Give my regards to the previous Sword of the Morning.”

The knife at her throat dug in, just a bit, as a slicing sound echoed throughout the room. The man holding her wheezed, before suddenly he was falling away from her, although most of his weight came forward. Sansa rushed away, though the surprise of his weight had her tripping into her betrothed and Jon’s arms.

Her mother had been talking to Margery and Olenna on the outskirts, but all three of them came running over to check on her. The Queen of Thorns was quick to press a cloth, it looked like a napkin, to the cut on her neck. Margery was fussing over her, while her mother hugged her tight to her chest. Still, she pulled away to look back and figure out what happened.

And there stood Ned Stark, the Quiet Wolf, with Ice still in hand and the blade covered in Greyjoy’s blood.

So, that was how he got the name. She hadn’t even heard him coming. There hadn’t even been a sound when he unsheathed Ice.

“Sweet Wolf…”

“Papa!”

Suddenly he had thrown the sword down and she was in his arms. Sansa didn’t know how long she stayed in his arms, but she never wanted to leave. A cheer broke free from the crowd.

“Here’s to the Quiet Wolf,” Oberyn was the one to call out, “He’s still got it, ladies and gentlemen.”

Everyone cheered loudly, before attendants rushed forward to clean up the mess from the attack. Kingsguard found that a small band of Iron Born had accompanied Euron to King’s Landing, but he’d infiltrated the wedding alone. When they sacked the ship docked in Blackwater Bay, a kidnapped Yara Greyjoy was found imprisoned within.

The Small Council briefly interrogated her, before she and Theon were allowed to go back to the Tully rooms. They needed a moment together. Still, she'd given them plenty of information.

Euron had murdered his brother upon returning from exile and attempted to force his niece into marriage to legitimize his claim. Theon was the main problem with that plan, so he’d come to the Red Keep, deducing that Sansa was most beloved by the King, Hand, and his own nephew, after watching Catelyn Stark party arrive from the shadows. He’d wanted to force them to trade Theon for Sansa, since he knew his nephew would recognize him before he could kill the young man.

While the cut on her neck wasn’t lethal, it did need to be cleaned. She wound up sitting at a table around the edge, while a young maester, and Sansa couldn’t be more grateful that it wasn’t Pycelle, cleaned the area. It stung and she pouted, even as her family gathered around her.

Everything that had just happened seemed to catch up with the younger children suddenly.

“And then Father was like…” Bran made a gesture like pulling a sword, “And then he was across the room…” He mimicked that action too, “And then he was like…” The stabbing gesture made Ned roll his eyes, even as he caught the young man falling back on him in a faint, “You are so amazing!”

Jon laughed, even as he handed a cleaned Ice back to their father, “I can’t wait to tell Robb about this.”

“Including the part about Sansa being in mortal peril?” The Quiet Wolf hissed, “Can we please stop talking about it?!”

“Oh, Ned, let them enjoy the moment,” Robert instructed, “It’s not every day that you find out your boring old man has great prowess with a sword!”

Rickon and Robin cheered in agreement with that.

Even Arya, from her place next to Sansa, was looking at Ned Stark with a new light in her eyes. She hadn’t left her sister’s side, but the Red Wolf could tell that she had a new respect for their father’s capabilities. All of his children did.

“Don’t encourage them, Your Grace,” Ned glared, “Taking life is nothing to celebrate.”

“It is when the alternative was your daughter or your ward’s life,” Aegon put in his opinion, as he returned from getting Sansa something to drink, “Forgive me, if I don’t mourn his loss.”

“I’m with… Griff,” Catelyn finished strong, “I’d have done it myself, given the opportunity.”

All the kids cheered.

“Oh, Sansa, I’m just so thrilled you’re all right,” Margery declared, where she’d been on her husband’s arm, “No one will ever be able to say my wedding was boring.”

“I could have done with less excitement,” Sansa huffed, taking her wine as the maester finished, “But, it’s time for everyone to stop fussing. I’m fine, truly.”

Robert chuckled, “You heard the girl! Let’s go get more wine.”

“Wait on me,” Ned flagged him, “I’ll go with you! Are you sure you’re alright, Sweet Wolf?”

“I’m fine, Father,” Sansa smiled at him, “Thank you.”

He kissed her forehead and wandered off with the King.

Margery stayed at their table, where Renly and Loras found them. Eventually Sansa’s mother went to check on Oberyn with Ellaria, as the man was still in a discussion with Stannis Baratheon about marrying a Dornish woman. Olenna remained with the younger party, enjoying the chatter of the younger children.

Slowly dancing picked back up and the drama of the night was put behind them. Sansa happily lounged on her betrothed, tucked on his arm as she watched the others, since being held hostage had drained all of her energy. She and Margery were delighted to find out that the Blackfish and Olenna had history and both young women merrily entertained themselves with ribbing their elders about their past tryst.

They were in the middle of a discussion concerning wine, when Robert started to cough across the room, gripping at their father's shoulder. Ned Stark wound up on his knees next to the King, yelling for a Maester. Within moments the Baratheon conqueror was unconscious on the ground.

Stannis shot up from his negotiations, but fell halfway across the room gasping. Oberyn rushed over trying to help him, screaming for a Maester as well.

Loras, who was standing on the dance floor with Shireen on his toes, started to search the room for his lover, "Renly, put that down!"

The youngest Baratheon brother put his wine glass down quickly, running over to Stannis, who was still conscious. Shireen ran over as well, but as the Master of Laws fell, her uncle grabbed the hysterical girl up. Both of them were surrounded by Kingsguard within a moment.

Maesters pronounced both the King and Stannis dead upon their arrival. The feast was evacuated, Margery and the Tyrells being taken out first. Renly had to go into closed council with the Small Council, so Sansa took custody of Shireen.

One idiot tried to scream about Shireen being the rightful heir, so Renly had to kneel in front of her, with the bodies of her family still on the floor, and ask the girl if she would bend the knee to him. She's only been able to nod he assent, still crying, and both Sansa and Renly glared the idiot into silence. None of them would tolerate someone forcing a crown on that innocent girl's head before her father's body cooled.

Back in the tower, Catelyn informed the Lannisters about what had transpired, while her Uncle took Bran back to the Tully rooms, to inform Theon and Yara. Jaime and Tyrion debated what had happened, quietly out of respect for Shireen, in the main room. Sansa joined them, after giving both Arya and Shireen a potion from Oberyn for sleep; safe for their age, but effective.

"I'm telling you," Jaime hissed insistently, "It screams of the Pact!"

"Enough is only given for one person," Tyrion had the same tone of voice he used when talking down to anyone, "Not two!"

"Why would the Iron Born attack out right, if they were going to do this?" Jaime's brow arched, "Stranger be acknowledged, why not just poison the Little Kraken and be done with it?"

"Gods be good," Catelyn rolled her eyes, "Sansa, how is Shireen?"

"Cried herself to sleep," Sansa sighed, sitting down next to her mother, "But, she's tucked tight between Lady and Shaggy; Rickon insisted."

"Arya?"

"Fast asleep with Nymeria."

"I finally got the boys to sleep," She sighed, brushing a hand through her daughter's auburn locks, "Is there any room left for you in the beds?"

Sansa just hummed to get out of answering, "Poor Margery. What do you think will happen now?"

"I'm not sure, my love. But, the Baratheons need the Tyrell alliance. I'd suspect Renly will try to marry her."

"All the more," Tyrion insisted, "Olenna knows that she can control Renly."

Jaime rolled his eyes, "I don't think that's fair. Renly is as loyal to House Tyrell, as they are to him."

"Exactly, who else would they like to have on the throne?"

"It's too big of a risk, if he won't give the hag great grandchildren."

The dwarf snorted, "As long as Loras participates, he'll manage."

Catelyn cleared her throat, "That's enough. Neither of you have enough information to guess."

So, they wound up twiddling their thumbs, until the Hand of the King returned to the tower. He was exhausted, with a tired looking Oberyn and both of their hidden dragons trailing behind him. They all looked ready to collapse.

"Ned, gods, what happened?"

"Renly has been named King," Ned started, "We brought up a prisoner from the Black Cells and confirmed that his wine was poisoned too."

Tyrion cursed. Olenna wouldn't give up a crown. She wouldn't do that to Loras.

Jaime smirked.

"He's leaving the Small Council as it is, but replacing Stannis with either a Westlander or Riverlander," He sighed, "We summoned the Blackfish, but he declined. He wants to stay in the Vale with Royce and you."

Catelyn smiled at her uncle, always looking out for his brother's children.

"I suggested Addam Marbrand," He downed a glass of wine in one go, "He was Captain of the City Watch for years and won't have to be trained extensively."

"You couldn't find a better man for the job," Jaime offered.

"Too true," Tyrion put in.

"What about Margery?"

"Funeral rites will be this week, then she'll marry Renly in a simple ceremony, before their joint coronation."

That was all they could possibly know, for the moment. Catelyn informed the Targaryen brothers that they could sleep in Rickon and Robin's room, as apparently the boys had fallen asleep in the same bed. Oberyn happily took Jaime's old room, rather than facing a horse at the late hour, so Sansa lost her last option for a bed.

Once she was alone in the sitting room, she snuck into her room with Arya for her last potion from Oberyn and a spare blanket, before downing it and getting comfortable on the extended cushion. She'd have slept on the floor, if it meant they were one step closer to a united Seven Kingdoms when the Night King came.

Sansa had to admit that her mother was right about Jaime and Tyrion's bickering, but she had plenty of information. Olenna and her father were in cahoots, as was Oberyn. They had simply changed targets to protect each other.

Who would suspect Ned Stark of poisoning Robert Baratheon? Who would suspect Olenna of attempting to poison Renly? And why would Oberyn start marriage negotiations with Stannis to poison him?

The Iron Born attacked. Their first plot failed. Their second almost succeeded. 

It was the obvious answer.

There was no path forward without bloodshed. The best way forward was the path of least resistance. They'd done more good than harm.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this chapter will make or break you on this story. For those who survive the game, onto the wedding we've all been waiting for.

When everyone woke up the next morning and realized Sansa had no bed after her ordeal at the wedding, the lot felt terrible. She waved them off. There was no time for such sentimentality.

The mourning period went into effect immediately, so everyone was dressed in black. Sansa fixed something of Arya's for Shireen, so the girl wouldn't have to put her dress from the wedding back on, then took her back to the Red Keep with her father. The Dornish had gone back to their villa, with Jon in tow, and the rest were making plans for the aftermath of what people of this time were calling the Black Wedding.

The Blackfish consented to their party staying for the coronation, but he wanted to get his niece and both his nephews situated safely in the Eyrie with Royce. Edmure and Desmera were both excited to get back to the calm and sanctuary that was Riverrun, so they didn't object. Ned was also excited to have Robb fully stationed in Winterfell as Warden of the North, but per their tradition, Ice was a large symbol of that power shift, so he still needed Arya to deliver it.

Renly and Margery were already together when Sansa found them. Both were quick to receive Shireen and promised that she'd be safe in King's Landing with them, until she got married. They would be good rulers and parents.

The mourning period passed quickly. The Kingdom suffered more with Robert's indulgences then they would without them. Overall, people were excited to have a new king in Renly.

The next week a quiet ceremony was held for Renly and Margery, highlighting that Sansa had been right. The Rose of Highgarden's first wedding went on entirely too long. They married in the morning and the coronation was held that afternoon.

Instead of white, her friend wore a gold dress with black detailing. Shireen was by their side, matching her new mother, as she'd started to identify Margery, and the site was adorable. It did catch Sansa off guard, as it did her mother, when Ned mentioned at the celebration feast that Renly suggested betrothing the girl to Robin.

It made sense though. She was terribly fond of Rickon and Robin since their arrival. The Vale lords were worried about their future if House Arryn wasn't strong, after suffering for years under Lysa's poor leadership, while their liege lord was in King's Landing. 

Sansa helped her mother facilitate the conversation with the children and gain their consent, as much as they could at their young age. Rickon had been a little jealous, perhaps having a crush on Shireen, but Robin offered that they could both marry her, like the Targaryens, and Rickon could be Master of Arms for the Vale. Such would never be accepted, but they were all so young that the adults let them have their youthful ignorance.

They agreed that, once the Vale was settled, Shireen would visit her future seat. As they slowly returned to their typical work in the garden, Sansa heard all about how Margery wasn't sure about letting the Baratheon daughter go anywhere. The day before her mother departed with the boys, Robin was still so far behind Rickon that Sansa was able to assure her, with certainty, such a day was a long way off.

For all the Tower had been so very crowded, Sansa felt utterly alone the day that everyone left. Arya was packed to travel back to the North with Dacey and a host of Stark guards. She'd stay with their mother, Royce, Rickon, and Robin until they reached the Eyrie. Then, she'd be with the Tullys and Bran until they reached Riverrun.

The Little Wolf slept in her bed one last time the night before she left. She had two new daggers, along with Needle, but they seemed to be of little consolation. Sansa understood, as she didn't want Arya to go either.

As they stood outside of the Tower, their father insisted that Arya listen to Jaime and get safely to the North. The Golden Lion swore to keep her safe, before he and Tyrion embraced one more time, knowing that they wouldn't have another chance for quite a while. The Lannister brothers were closer than ever without Cersei standing between them.

Bran was mostly still excited to squire under the Blackfish, but he hugged her tight. Rickon did the same, asking her to take care of Shireen, and Robin seconded that notion. She was glad to agree.

Septa Mordane was going with the party and was staying at the Eyrie. That had been a long discussion between her parents and the woman, as they all debated which camp needed her most. Ned Stark hadn't quite stopped thinking of Arya and Bran the same way he did Rickon, but Jaime Lannister pled their case and earned the eternal devotion of the middle wolves.

Nymeria, Shaggy, and Summer sat dutifully by the horses waiting to go. Sansa was sad to see them leave, but thought it was telling that there would be direwolves in five of the nine territories. Greywind must be impossibly big by now. Ghost certainly was.

They rode toward the Vale with Domeric Bolton leading the party of guards for the North. His bond with Jon was strong and their father appreciated having a son of the North, who was familiar with the Vale, looking out for his wife. So, the Bolton heir had agreed to stay at the Eyrie, since his father wasn't going anywhere any time soon. 

After getting to know Roose's son more, Sansa thought that had been a brilliant idea. Lord Bolton had already expressed his pleasure at his son having such a prominent position. He wasn't even phased by Ramsey's death, so he must have seen the writing on the wall; the wolves had the North. 

His future was through Domeric, though that was bound to be an interesting betrothal discussion. Especially if, by that point, Robb's sister was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. They'd been alone in Ned Stark's solar, when the Quiet Wolf pondered that.

She'd never tell anyone the way he snorted, pulled a face, and cursed, "Good on the Young Wolf; he can have it. I'm retiring south with you and Aegon."

That moment was theirs.

The next couple of months passed quickly, once the tower was empty. Jon spent most of his time with Griff and the Sand Snakes in the training yard. All except for Tyene, who spent most of her time with Sansa and Margery.

Eventually, with her name day of six and ten only two days away, Sansa knew that a discussion of when she would marry was taking place in earnest. They had already decided with her next moonblood, since Robert was gone, that she would be announced as having flowered. After the celebration they would make for Dorne, as long as the kingdom was stable.

Jon returned to his previous room after they watched their family ride away toward distant futures. He loved his time with his brother and both confirmed that they were starting to have dreams of their individual dragons in Dorne. The Stark cousin also realized the same thing was happening between him and Ghost, and Sansa and Lady.

Their father insisted that they had to be careful talking about it, but he was excited for the hidden Targaryens, and his daughter.

"There are reports of a Wildling army," Ned Stark hissed, studying his most recent raven from Robb, "Amassing on the edge of the Wall."

"Why would they risk certain death coming anywhere near Castle Black?" Sansa questioned. She knew, of course, but she couldn't say yet.

"It's suicide," Jon agreed while they were breaking their fast.

He shrugged, still reading the letter, "They've elected a King Beyond the Wall, the first in years."

"Fascinating," Tyrion offered sincerely. He'd elected to return to court and taken over the previous Tully apartments, now that everyone had left. But, he liked breaking his fast with their family.

"I'll have to see what Renly wants to do," Ned sighed, "You're supposed to leave with the Gold Company to take the Iron Islands next week."

Theon nodded, where he and Yara were seated next to Sansa at the table. That had been another lovely surprise that occurred since everyone left the capital. Balon Greyjoy's children had obtained Renly's permission to marry before a priest of the Drowned God, in order to solidify their claim to the seat at Pyke.

The wedding had been brief and to the point, but they had quickly taken over the newlywed suite in the Tower. After a couple of days, they did manage to drag themselves back into public view, but both were ready and anxious to reclaim their home. Her Sea Wolf had married well, Sansa would give him that; though she was crude, Sansa was fond of Yara.

"Do you think he'll pull their support from us?"

Ned sat back thinking. They had a limited time frame to do both, investigate and end this Wilding surge, as well as put Theon and Yara in Pyke. But, the two problems were at some distance between them.

Realizing he only had one option, the Quiet Wolf sighed, "He won't, but it will come at a price… Sansa?"

Her brow arched, "Father?"

He absolutely hated this. Why was it always his good daughter expected to make the sacrifices to assure the peace? Cat had always faced the same thing, compared to Lysa.

"Sansa, if Renly allows the Gold Company to aid Theon, I would have to go back to the North, as Hand, to investigate this army with Robb," He rubbed his forehead, "But, Theon's alliance with them, and it is an alliance, because no gold has actually changed hands, needs to be strong, to help him hold the seat. That's best accomplished with…"

What he was trying to say struck her.

"With my marriage," She concluded, "Of course, Father. I would accompany Griff south with the Gold Company and marry."

Tyrion snorted, "Don't you mean Aegon?" When they all looked at him like the wolves they were, the Little Lion gulped and confessed, "Jaime told me."

Ned rolled his eyes, "Worst kept secret in the Seven Kingdoms."

Jon snickered.

"Sansa… I never imagined asking you to marry, when I can't…"

She was touched by his sentimentality, but still shook her head and smiled at him, overly fond, "You wolves, so emotional."

"Said the Red Wolf of Winterfell," Tyrion jested.

Ned grinned, but got back on topic, "Jon will, of course, escort you in my stead. Once Theon is in place, the Gold Company will move North to White Harbor, if Renly agrees."

"Who will act as Hand of the King in your stead?" Jon inquired.

"Well, I was hoping to recommend Tyrion," Ned looked over, "If he'd be willing?"

"I would be honored, Lord Stark."

As if it were a sign from the gods, Sansa woke up the morning of her name day with bloody sheets. It was early, only by a couple of days, but everyone would be excited to know. She also had a raven waiting from Robb.

He wrote that he hoped she'd enjoy her gift, as she was the first person to know that Ysilla was with child. She'd rushed to dress and tore into the common area, squealing the entire time. Their rag tag family of wolves, krakens, a dragon, and lion, all looked at her like she'd grown another head.

Sansa stammered through an explanation, showing them the letter. Everyone cheered the Young Wolf, their father declaring that he knew his son had it in him, and it set off to be a fabulous day. Both he and Jon started writing letters to the new Warden of the North.

Belatedly, Sansa recalled her own news, and informed their father quietly. She was mortified when he announced that he would have to inform the Small Council, but there was nothing to be done about it. Apparently her becoming a woman was, in fact, an announcement for the Seven Kingdoms.

So, her name day celebration became a dual party for her flowering. Margery hosted it in the gardens, with plenty of lemon cakes and other sweets, and all the gifts that Sansa could possibly want. She wore her peach and red dress, with her golden sun necklace and Elia's circlet, which made the Dornish beam when they arrived.

"This day has been amazing, Margery," Sansa confessed, as they sat down from dancing together, "Thank you."

"Of course!" She declared, "And I have one more gift for you, though I must admit, I feel Robb stole it from me."

"What are…" The obvious answer struck her and Sansa gasped, "You're with child!"

"Apparently these Baratheons are exceptional at producing babes," The Queen giggled.

"Congratulations! Oh this is so exciting!" Sansa had told her earlier about the Wildlings and her father's proposal, "I pray I make it back in time, to meet the new prince or princess!"

"I hope so too," She confessed, rubbing her belly, "Shireen is so excited. And, with you getting married, I hope our children will be around the same age."

"We'll see how true the proclaimed Tully fertility holds!"

Renly allowed their father's plan to hold true.

A week after her name day celebration, Sansa was boarding a ship for Dragonstone, where she would meet up with the Gold Company, to travel to Sunspear. Their Dornish family was about to come out of their skin at going home, her betrothed being exceptionally rambunctious. 

And her father was setting out for White Harbor on the same day. Sansa hadn’t been able to bear the thought of exposing Lady and Ghost to the heat that was Dorne, so both wolves were going with the Quiet Wolf on his journey. It would make her feel better about the man travelling without any of his family as well.

Though it would make for a long round trip, Theon and Yara were travelling with them, and would assume command of the Gold Company as soon as they were assured of Aegon and Sansa's marriage. They were krakens anyway and more comfortable on a ship then they were inland. Sansa was a bit jealous of their ease on the vessel.

Even the brief trip to Jon's future seat had her clinging to Aegon's neck, as he chuckled and swore that she'd find her sea legs given time. Blackwater Bay was beautiful and the salt air smelled delicious as they escaped any remnants of Flea Bottom. It struck her for the first time just how much her betrothed had seen. Once she was settled on the ship edge with the Sand Snakes and Ellaria, Sansa watched with fascination as he moved effortlessly around the deck, anticipating the needs of the crew before they had them.

He was comfortable here. Or on a horse. In King's Landing, or Essos, or soon being back in Dorne.

It was a tad overwhelming, as even in her past life, her traveling had been laced with necessity and terror. Ellaria seemed to notice and led everyone into their shared cabin to do stitch work. They would only pass by Dragonstone to signal the rest of the prepared fleet to follow anyway.

Sansa was making Jon a new tunic to wear on the day of their arrival. This one was Stark grey, and had a white wolf head with red eyes on the chest, but she knew that there would be no need to hide his identity in Dorne, so she was adding something extra. A set of red dragon wings spread wide on either side of the wolf.

It was ironic, since Jon had confirmed that his dragon was black and Aegon's red and gold, but both seemed quite happy to represent one another in their personal sigils. Sansa got the feeling that the time would soon approach when they would stop hiding all together. It was a long time coming.

As a result, she also put the red three headed dragon on his wolf cloak.

They didn't emerge until the ship passed Dragonstone and Oberyn called for them to come and look. Emerging from the cabin, the sight behind them was shocking as they were the lead ship to a massive fleet suddenly. The ship closest to them was near enough for someone to jump between, which is exactly what a dashing older man did.

He was assured as he hit the deck. Shoulder length scarlet hair flew in the wind, highlighting a short white and red beard, and a cloak with a fox about his shoulders blew around him as well. This was the man who'd first sent Aegon off to King's Landing and her.

"Jon!"

"Aegon, my boy," The two collided in a mess of limbs and affection, "Looks like you survived the pit of despair in one piece."

"Not for lack of trying," Oberyn grouched.

"Hmm," Connington popped Aegon on the chin, "Well, he wouldn't be his father's son, any other way."

"Don't encourage him!"

"Come on," Aegon pushed at him, "Come meet Jon and Sansa."

They had no problem maneuvering the swaying vessel, while Sansa was trying not to fall over. Still, she was glad that she'd worn her favorite dress today. Her hair was in a simple braid that Tyene recommended, so it didn't get tangled on the sea.

Jon looked handsome, his hair tied back in a knot like his brother's, as he wandered over with Obara. He had decided on a white tunic with the Stark sigil and two black swords crossing behind it. She could tell he was studying his namesake reverently.

"My gods… Did they keep you two on opposite ends of the city?"

"Hardly," Oberyn scoffed, "We could barely separate them. Luckily King's Landing doesn't house many of the intelligent sort."

"I haven't seen you since you were a babe."

Jon allowed himself to be pulled into a tight embrace by the older man. They were quite the vision and Sansa had to remind herself this was actually happening. The older knight even got a bit teary.

Finally, they pulled apart and the man's attention turned to her, where Sansa was still clutching Ellaria's arm. He chuckled at the sight, "Don't worry, my lady, you're a Tully."

Sansa couldn’t resist smiling at him. She was surprised the man knew that, but then had to remind herself that the southern half of their family always knew she should have been betrothed to Aegon. They all must have been curious about her.

“You will have your sea legs after a day,” He explained, a warm promise held within his voice, before his gaze swung back to her Targaryen prince, “Well, I hope you know how lucky you are, boy!”

“That I do.”

“I’ve heard so much about you, Ser Connington.”

“Call me Jon. After all, I’ve practically raised this one, after I broke him out of court isolation!”

“Broke him out?” Sansa inquired.

“Doran and I still haven’t forgiven you for that,” Oberyn hissed, crossing his arms in a huff.

Her brother’s namesake rolled his eyes, giving her a grin, “Well, this one was raised as the secret prince of the Dornish court until he was thirteen, but he never got to go anywhere…”

“True,” Aegon cited.

“So, when he was thirteen, I snuck him out on… This ship, actually. Took him to Essos for an adventure!”

Sansa giggled, “You snuck away to an entirely different country? I got tracked down if I went to the godswood unattended!”

Aegon shrugged, grinning at her, “I always wanted to go on adventures. It wasn’t difficult to persuade me.”

They all settled around the deck to chat, the older Jon telling them all about Aegon’s childhood, and all the trouble and mischief he got into as a young boy. It became apparent that the Red Viper had wanted for no sons, after raising his nephew like his own. She happily shared stories about Jon too, telling her brother’s namesake all about his broody disposition.

All of them stayed on the deck long past sunset, sharing all of their stories.

“Of course, there was the time Theon and Robb took Jon to Winter Town to…”

Jon rushed over and covered her mouth, “Don’t you dare! I will throw you over the edge!”

Connington snorted, ribbing at Oberyn, “I’m going to guess it was the same reason we took this one to Braavos.”

Aegon blushed the same color as her hair and Sansa pulled away from Jon.

“Well, the most exciting part was when a blizzard hit and they got locked out of Winterfell,” Sansa disclosed, “We had to sneak them in through the godswood, before my mother found out.” 

“Longest two days of my life,” Jon admitted, “Father was the one I was worried about finding out.”

Sansa set him with the most even look she could, “Jon, who do you think told us about the back gate?”

Her brother was horrified.

They all got ready for bed shortly after. Despite the fact that Sansa was still unsure on her feet, the gentle rock of the ship had her drifting right off to sleep. It was an amazing experience.

As the two week journey to Sunspear continued, she was exceptionally grateful that she didn’t suffer a sick stomach, unlike Nymeria. The poor thing lived with her head over the edge of the ship, or in a pot the entire time. Everyone told her it was a perfectly normal reaction, but she felt terrible for the girl.

She and Ellaria had finally gotten her to sleep, the Red Viper’s paramour joining in quickly behind her, when Sansa had her first sleepless night. She was already in her nightgown, but a robe had her decent enough to be seen by the crew, as everyone was used to living in close proximity. The lot had been very nice and no one made her feel uncomfortable, so she wasn’t worried.

Just as everyone promised, her sea legs had been found after the first few days on the ship. She wandered over to gaze at the full moon, the warm wind and sea air pulling a smile from her face. It was a lovely sensation.

A whistle pulled her attention to the back of the ship. Moving to investigate, Sansa recognized the tune as ‘The Dornishman’s Wife’ after a moment of listening. There was no surprise to finding Aegon in his netting, strung between a beam and the edge of the boat, where he liked to sleep. It looked like he was cleaning Dawn.

After a moment, she couldn’t resist singing along, “The Dornishman’s wife was fair as the sun and her kisses were warmer than spring. But the Dornishman’s blade was made of black steel, and its kiss was a terrible thing!”

He startled, just for a moment, before he grinned at her. His hand extended out and Sansa accepted, letting herself be pulled to him. She wasn’t necessarily expecting to end up sitting on his thigh, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, and they were about to be married, so she continued as he kept whistling.

“The Dornishman’s wife would sing as she bathed, in a voice that was sweet as a peach, but the Dornishman’s blade had a song of its own, and a bite sharp and cold as a leech!” Sansa had to admit she loved his indigo eyes, “As he lay on the ground with the darkness around, and the taste of blood on his tongue, his brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer, and he smiled and laughed as he sung…”

“Brothers, oh brother, my days her are done. The Dornishman’s taken my life, but what does it matter, for all men must die, and I’ve tasted the Dornishman’s wife! Oh yes, I’ve tasted the Dornishman’s wife,” Suddenly they were kissing and Sansa wasn’t sure, for once in both her lives, who started it.

“You never told me you could sing,” He murmured when they finally broke apart.

Sansa giggled, “And with good reason. I already have to sing at every feast in Winterfell. Margery could never know.”

“Hmm… Marry me?”

“That’s already happening!”

“Good, just making sure,” And then they were kissing again. Sansa was sure he started it this time.

A throat clearing was what made them stop next. Sansa jumped from her spot sitting on him, jerking to see who had stumbled upon them. Aegon was much more blaize in his glance toward the other direction, more inconvenienced than curious.

She was horrified to spot Jon standing on the deck, flanked on either side by the man he was named after and the Red Viper. The White Wolf had his arms crossed, while Connington was grinning, and Oberyn was pinching his nose.

“You’re supposed to be the good one, Sansa,” Jon accused.

“Boy, you sure were raised by the Red Viper.”

“No interest in chasing skirts his whole life,” Oberyn hissed, “Gets around one Winter Rose and suddenly he’s Rhaegar come again!”

Jon marched over and pulled her up, pushing Sansa back toward the stairs and her cabin with the other women. She heard her betrothed make a sound of protest, but both of the older men had already seized him as well. Moving toward her bed, she rolled her eyes, but didn’t protest.

“Oh, Uncle Obie…”

“No, you have lost your sleeping on deck privileges,” The man in question cursed, “You’re staying below, where I can keep an eye on you.”

“As of dawn, you’ve got two more weeks until you’re married, Aegon,” Connington encouraged, as Sansa was closing the door to her cabin, “You’ll make it. Just behave.”

By midday the next afternoon, Oberyn had told Ellaria what happened, and she told the Sand Snakes. Everyone wanted details about their tryst, but Sansa kept them close to her chest. She was quite happy with the encounter and didn’t want it scrutinized by the masses.

Jon was suddenly following her around whenever she was on deck. Even his threats to tell their father didn’t move her. Sansa tolerated him relatively well, however there were a few times that she might have threatened to push him over the edge, when she truly wanted some space. Obara offered to help.

One exceptionally hot day, as they arrived in Dornish waters, Sansa wandered out to find Aegon working on the deck shirtless. She’d frozen at the sight and it had taken Jon a moment to look up. 

Realizing what was happening when he saw his brother, the cunt, grinning at Sansa like she was the Maiden in the flesh, he’d rolled his eyes, “I’m being tested.”

Sansa snorted, “Try it from my perspective.”

Her brother gasped and Tyene, who had been walking with them, busted out laughing. She threw her arm around Sansa, pulling her along the deck, “I knew you had it in you, Red Wolf!”

They wouldn't have another moment alone until a vision of her betrothed pacing the deck like a caged wolf startled her from sleep. Sansa hurried into her robe and out onto the deck. He looked even more like Jon in his pensiveness.

"Aegon?"

He startled, jumping a bit as his gaze shot toward her, "Sansa, what are you doing up? We'll dock tomorrow. You should get some sleep."

"You're upset. I wanted to see what was wrong. If you'd tell me?"

Indigo eyes grew thin as her betrothed scrutinized the Red Wolf, "How did you know I was even out here?"

Jon hadn't told him, then. Sansa didn't know why she thought he might have. While they were brothers by dragon blood, the White Wolf would never betray his northern siblings.

She took a deep breath and sat down on one of the benches nailed in place on deck, "There is something I should tell you. Before we marry."

"Alright?" He sat down next to her, attention gone for the moment from whatever had been bothering him, "What is it?"

"I… You know how we discovered our ability to warg into wolves and dragons?"

"Yes?"

"That's… not all I can do."

His head tilted, silver blonde hair blowing into his face as the wind kicked up, "It's alright, Sansa. You can tell me."

"I have dreams, but sometimes they happen when I'm awake too… I know you came to the tourney from Dragonstone, and that you offered to let Jon win the Tourney of the Hand," She took his hand, running a finger over the scar on his palm, "I know how you got this. Should you leave any blades laying around for our children to find, you too will be sleeping in the kennels."

The seriousness of the moment was broken when he busted out laughing. Aegon pulled her close and kissed her fondly, "Did you know that my mother was a sandseer too?"

"Sandseer?"

"I suppose Northerners wouldn't have called them that, but she had visions. That was why my father took prophecies so seriously, because they came from his wife."

Sansa was surprised, but she offered anyway, "We call people like me a greenseer."

"I suppose that makes sense. Children of the Forest and all of that."

"You don't think I'm mad?"

"No, my love," He kissed her gently, "Never!"

"So? Why are you upset?"

"Well…" Aegon sighed, dragging a hand through his loose hair, "See… My father and Jon, Sansa they both fostered with Tywin Lannister at Casterly Rock."

That was news to her. She had never heard stories of Rhaegar before Harrenhal, honestly. His childhood wasn't important to the story for most.

"I know… Talking about my grandfather before the madness set in, it doesn't change all the harm he caused, I know that. It's just… There were years where the kingdom did prosper under the Wise King and the Great Lion."

"What he became doesn't change that either."

He smiled at her, grim as it was, for allowing his point. His hands wrung in his lap, where Aegon leaned on his knees by his elbows, before continuing, "My father, Jon, Jaime; by all accounts they lazed around the Rock playing with swords until my parents married and my father was given Dragonstone… Until my grandfather took Jaime as a Kingsguard out of spite."

That part of the story Sansa had learned before. The rift that had developed between Great Lion and Mad King. Everyone suspected there was more to the story though.

"Jon doesn't talk about the Lannisters, not around my Dornish family, but when he took me to Essos… Aerys had started to go down hill, when I was born. I was never exposed to him until he kidnapped my mother, but… Sansa, my first words were Papa Lion. Tywin was the only grandfather Rhaenys or I ever knew!"

"You don't think he gave that order."

"I always just wanted to face him. Just once, to hear it for myself, if he did."

"Why haven't you?"

"I promised not to go near the Black Cells," He acknowledged, "And, I haven't wanted to rock the boat, so to speak, during the journey. Uncle Obie will lose his mind."

"Tonight is your last chance though."

"I have to, Sansa. I need him to know who I am and tell me…"

"Go," She encouraged, "I'll be watching."

"If it comes to it, send the old men for me."

He didn't mean in the case that he got into trouble. She didn't take it that way. There was something Sansa wasn't putting together, but she just suspected that Aegon wasn't in the wrong here.

It was dark out and he was swinging between ships, as if he did it everyday. Was she going to bore him? That seemed like it could easily be an issue.

"He may wander, but he's never been lost a day."

She started, looking back to see Ellaria emerging onto the deck, "You've known…"

"About his obsession with Tywin Lannister?" She scoffed, "Boy's had it for a damn age. I didn't think he'd have the restraint to wait until we got this far."

"Do you think he's right?"

"I think he knows what he needs," Ellaria informed her, leaning on the edge, "He's always been sure of himself."

That wasn't about Tywin Lannister.

"I'm from Essos, the daughter of a priestess of R'hllor and a Dornish nobleman," Ellaria admitted, "I was originally brought to court because I was a sandseer like Elia; she needed a companion."

Huh. Sansa wasn't sure what to do with that, "You've been…"

"Just keeping up with you," Ellaria admitted, "Your father was concerned when your siblings started commenting on your strange dreams. After all, the Lannisters had just escaped and you were about to leave for King's Landing."

"Why?"

"You have assumed the role of Queen of the Seven Kingdoms with grace at sixteen years old," Ellaria reminded, "Most people, regardless of their warnings, trials, or triumphs, wouldn't have done as well as you have."

"What now?"

"Now look over the edge and see if you can't show us what's going on over there."

Sansa was confused and she was sure that her face showed it. Glancing over, Aegon had just landed on the guarded vessel and took a torch in hand before disappearing therein. Returning her attention to the woman, who nodded downward, she was shocked when a glimmer took over the water, small at first, before it grew.

Aegon walked into the ship cell, which no matter what they did, must have been a damn paradise compared to the Black Cells. There was already one torch lit for the guard, but Aegon carried his to the holder nearest the prison cell. There was a bench stuck in place, just out of arm's reach from the bars.

Tywin didn't look good, by any means, but he was clean and had been fed enough to put off starvation. That probably hadn't been the case after the Black Cells, but there were just certain restraints of a ship, Sansa had found, that required greater cleanliness. So, while Aegon was seeing the Old Lion show a little bit more, in his sunken cheeks and thinner frame, the Great Lion wasn't dead yet.

"So, which is it?" Tywin demanded, taking a long look at Aegon, as he stepped up to the cell, "His ghost or his son?"

He was sitting with his back to the cell wall, long legs extended out and crossed at the ankles, as he leaned on the curved wood looking ever so casual. Emerald eyes glowed almost gold in the torchlight that battled with the darkness. It wasn't that he didn't know the position he was in, but he hadn't forgotten that he was a predator too.

Sansa had always been drawn to people like Olenna. She recognized a similar spirit in Tywin Lannister, though she hadn't gotten much time near him before. Cersei was in the way.

"Both," Aegon answered with a chuckle.

Tywin's head tilted, intrigued.

Her betrothed noted the change and arched a brow at the previous Warden of the West.

He shook his head, long maned whiskers moving with him, "I expected you to sound like him, but it's too deep. I'm sure from growing up in Dorne… Aegon."

"Hello, Papa Lion," Sansa watched his chin raise, ever so slightly, "If I ask you a question, will you answer me honestly?"

"If I'm so inclined."

At least that cunt was honest. The Red Wedding had been brutal, but it had been efficient. Sansa would admit she could have been brought to heel, along with the North, had Tywin been able to control his daughter and her bastard. 

"Did you give that order?"

The silence that rang through the cabin was a sharp contrast to the waves around Sansa. The Old Lion looked nowhere but her betrothed, weighing him against something, though she wasn't sure what, before finally confessing, "No, I didn't even know the Mountain was among my army. He was Cersei's bodyguard and she sent him to… She wanted to be Queen."

Sansa hissed as this missing piece slammed into place. Immediately she wished that Cersei hadn’t gotten off so easily. That bitch deserved what had always been coming to her, but her death had simply been too quick.

Aegon nodded, thumb running across his lower lip in a habit Sansa had picked up on, “I always suspected as much.” He looked back to the guard and gestured for the keys on the man’s belt. When the man hesitated he laughed, "You can give them to me, or I can take them, friend. It means little to me."

That seemed to startle the guard, but got him moving quickly enough. A turned key was all it took and her betrothed was opening the cell, moving inward to kneel next to Tywin Lannister, "Can you walk?"

"I suppose we'll find out," The lion allowed, but he didn't move. His emerald gaze was locked on Aegon's face, now that the young dragon was only a head away from him, "You look… You got your grandmother's eyes, just like him."

Aegon smiled, but it was laced with sadness, "Why did you swear to end the dragons?"

The Old Lion snorted, though it sounded a bit like a snarl, "I did not swear to end the dragons, fucking gossips… Only to end the Mad Dragon."

"Why?"

They locked gazes and slowly Tywin's hand came up to caress the young prince's cheek. After a moment though, he huffed and looked away, "You must forgive me, but my inclination has reached its end."

As her betrothed was picking the Old Lion up, the water rippled. Sansa turned to Ellaria, wide eyed and no idea what to do with the new information. Suddenly they were fast approaching Sunspear and the man she was about to marry had every intention of bringing Tywin Lannister before the Red Viper.

The man’s paramour took a deep breath, pushing off the railing, “I’ll go and get Oberyn.”

After it was all said and done, the answer was yes. The Old Lion could still walk, although it was unsteady. It took hours of yelling and arguing, but Oberyn finally accepted that he could have no more vengeance on Cersei. It was hard to watch the Red Viper brought to such a sad place, but between Ellaria, Aegon, and Jon Connington, they managed to bring him out of it.

So, as dawn broke on the horizon, a raven of warning concerning what had transpired was sent to Doran Martell. Tywin walked across a plank from the prison ship onto the vessel that had carried her thus far and Sansa was put in charge of nursing Tywin Lannister back to health, as she had experience with ill treated lions. She certainly saw where Jaime got his growly and fickle disposition.

Of course, other than making sure he was comfortable, there wasn’t much anyone could do. He’d have access to the best Maesters that Dorne could offer by that night, but their options on a ship were few. Still, he was given enough food to fill him up without causing illness, and something to help him rest, after Oberyn calmed down.

Leaving him in an unused servant’s quarters, because it was what was available, Sansa emerged back onto the main deck. It was midmorning by that point and she’d been told they would dock in Sunspear at sundown. As they got further and further into Dornish waters, the warnings that she’d gotten about the temperatures of the southernmost part of the Seven Kingdoms proved to not be exaggerated.

It made sense, as they took shelter below during the hottest parts of the day, why the Dornish napped when the sun was at its peak, but stayed up late into the night. Aegon’s descriptions had seemed outlandish, until Sansa started to feel the heat for herself, as they travelled. And that was with the breeze from sailing attempting to help alleviate the sun’s scorch. She couldn’t imagine what it was going to be like standing on land.

Aegon hit the deck from somewhere above, the second Sansa emerged from the lower level, “How is he?”

“Snarly and snappish,” Sansa huffed, making for the side of the ship, unsurprised when Jon and Tyene joined the two of them in a huddle, “But he’ll live to roar another day. How’s your uncle?”

“Dealing,” The young dragon surmised, “He’ll end up taking the excess anger out on Clegane, since he can’t get Cersei.”

Tyene sniffed, “Good! Bastard deserves worse than even Father could manage.”

“Too right,” Jon agreed, before settling his attention on Sansa and changing the subject, “What are you wearing?”

She thanked the old gods and the new that she’d had this planned prior to their party even departing, as the day had simply been too much already, “My Winter Rose dress.”

“Wipe the grin off your face, Aegon,” Jon instructed.

Her betrothed put valiant effort into trying, but couldn’t seem to quite manage, “Sorry, no can do.”

"Ugh," Jon noted his displeasure at the heat that had settled between his siblings.

Sansa decided on a light nap herself, as she'd been up before dawn. She knew that this truly marked the end of their time hiding either dragons' identity. Everyone in Dorne, according to Aegon, already regarded her brother as Prince Jon Targaryen; a description which had made her brother's eyes almost pop out.

Hours later, after getting Tywin ready in a red and gold shirt that Aegon happened to own, because the Great Lion wouldn't stoop to acknowledging having suffered in the black cells for months, Sansa moved to get herself ready. Ellaria did her hair in northern braids on the top, leaving the back free, after she bathed with the Sand Snakes.

She was back in her dress of weirwood leaves and winter roses, donning her father's gift from the year prior, when the coast came back into view. Her Dornish family was about to burst at almost being home, while the greenseer had to admit to being nervous. Even in her previous life, Sansa had never been to Dorne.

As they came into port, she was astounded. Sunspear was alive despite the setting sun, torches burning across the city already. The Old Palace shown in the distance, the stonework a light bronze in the fading light, despite the fact that each tower was topped with curved gold.

As they got closer, Sansa turned to see her brother emerging from below the deck. He looked very handsome in his black pants and grey tunic. A white wolf showed proudly on his chest, showing dragon wings on either side, and Blackfyre was stitched down from both shoulders. Aegon had tried to talk him into wearing his armor, but everyone agreed it was too hot.

Her betrothed was walking out behind his brother and had the younger teen's wolf cloak draped over his arm. Raising a brow, Sansa demanded, "You can't be planning to wear that!"

"Under protest," Jon growled.

"You'll look fabulous!" Aegon insisted, "And you only have to wear it until we get inside."

"Gods be good," Sansa rolled her eyes, "And you don't die from the heat first."

They were kept back from the ramp, as Oberyn and Ellaria were presented to the gathered crowd first. From the roar that echoed in Sansa's ear, there was a gracious plenty of people who had come to get a glimpse of them. Her dragon had confessed that many hadn't thought his uncle would return alive, given his thirst for revenge.

All the more, when Tywin Lannister was presented as an honored guest, she was shocked the people gathered managed to clap politely. It clearly hadn't been the sort of welcome anyone had been prepared to offer a Lannister in Dorne. The lack of hostility was a miracle, given what had almost happened.

She helped Jon into his cloak, as Aegon and the Sand Snakes departed the ship. The roar that erupted for the younger Martells, and they were clearly all considered Martells in every way that mattered, would have probably shaken the ship, if there hadn't been a land and sea differentiation. The great family of Dorne was clearly very beloved.

"Ready for this?" Jon asked, as the announcer presented him just as Aegon warned he would. Prince Jon Targaryen, the White Wolf, first born son of Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lady Lyanna Stark, and heir to Dragonstone.

And his sister, Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell, first born daughter of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Tully, "Not in the slightest."

They emerged at the top of the ramp off the ship and another boisterous call emmenated from the crowd. Sansa waved, as expected, though she was shocked when the crowd gathered went as far back as she could see. Jon waved at first, but his attention soon went to making sure neither of them tripped.

Descending the ramp and crossing a sizable pier, Sansa took in the Martells gathered at the end of the dock. Oberyn was at the shoulder of a serious but gentle looking man in a chair with wheels. Her first impression of Doran Martell was that the man reminded Sansa of her father.

She imagined a young Ned and Doran attempting to figure out how to sort the wreckage of the Trident, with two babes to protect. A young Oberyn would have been slithering around their feet, attempting to sink his fangs into anything meaty. They had been her age when thrust into leadership, too young for all the lives that became dependent on them.

At his other shoulder was a gorgeous dark haired woman, who Sansa would have guessed was Arianne Martell, even if she wasn't the only one wearing a golden circlet. She was in a gorgeous red and orange dress that made her look like a spark of flame. The Winter Rose wondered if Doran had taken her father's advice.

It seemed that way, as Sansa also took in the two young men standing behind their older sister. One was a short and stocky man, solemn and dour, and Sansa placed that he must be Quentyn. Beside him was a young and sprite thing, who had to be Trystane.

The Sand Snakes were spread out behind them, each of her three friends hanging onto a younger girl. Ellaria was much the same, from her place next to Oberyn, as she kissed the face of a young child on her hip. Aegon was standing off to the side of his male cousins, a final Sand Snake on his back.

"Prince Jon, Lady Sansa," Doran smiled at them, but Sansa sensed that he hated they were in front of an audience, "Welcome to Sunspear. We could not be more excited to have you here."

As soon as he was finished Ellaria put the little girl that she was holding down. Only then did Sansa spot the red flower, of an odd shape that she'd never seen before, held in the girl's hand.

A cheer rang through the crowd as soon as he stopped talking and Sansa bent down to receive the little girl's gift, "You must be Loreza."

Her dark curly hair bounced as she nodded. Clearly she hadn't quite expected Sansa to speak to her. It was an adorable sight.

"Aegon's told me all about you," Sansa told her, "You're six years old."

"Seven in one more moon!" She found her voice to emphasize.

"How exciting!"

Now that they were talking, Loreza didn't stop, "Is your hair actually made of fire?"

"No, it's just hair," Sansa grinned, "You can touch it if you want."

Her little hand darted out quickly to comb through the red locks, then she gasped and ran back to her mother a few feet away, pointing the whole time. Sansa stood quickly and went back to Jon's waiting arm, her attention going back to the older Martell brother, "Thank you, Prince Doran. We couldn't be more excited to be here."

"Come and res…" He started making their excuses, when another voice broke in.

"I thought they were going to bring actual wolves?"

All attention turned toward the girl on Aegon's back, but her betrothed just grinned, "Change of plans, Els."

She scoffed, "I only came for the wolves."

"Elia," Ellaria hissed.

Oberyn gave his daughter a look that Ned Stark had perfected over the years, making Jon and Sansa grin at one another. At Winterfell that look usually meant that one of the Stark children was about to find out why their father was called the Quiet Wolf. Of course, they agreed silently, that had new meaning since the Black Wedding.

Doran rolled his eyes and smiled at them jovially, "Well, that lasted about twenty seconds longer than I expected."

Everyone laughed and soon they were loading up in carriages. The crowd began to go about their usual day, vendors apparently doing most of their business in the next couple hours, according to Aegon. Sansa was introduced to each of the younger Sand Snakes.

Sarella was Sansa's age and had missed out on getting to go to King's Landing by one moon. She was still bitter and apparently hadn't spoken to her father by the time Sansa was informed of the story. It certainly explained why Oberyn was loitering around their huddle in the courtyard, where she'd paired off with Tyene and the Sand Snake in question.

Ellaria joined their group quickly, everyone giving Sansa a moment to take in the reality that was Sunspear. Torches kept everything lit, along with lanterns down street, and there was food and puppet shows for children; she recognized one telling the story of Princess Myria Martell to Prince Daeron Targaryen. That made her smile.

Tywin has been escorted to a Maester and carriage that were waiting. Sansa noted to put eyes on him quickly. She got the sense Aegon had a complicated understanding of the West and Tywin Lannister. A tension in her neck told her that was going to get worse, before it got better.

With Ellaria came Doran, Loreza, and Dorea. A girl with hair more brown than black looked at her bustling with curiosity, but Oberyn flagged her to help get their party packed and moving. Sansa felt Jon finally take a breath under her hand.

"Welcome back."

"I blame you for this."

"Oh, please," Sansa quipped, "I've brought you no dishonor."

"Winter is not coming fast enough," Jon crouched, shimmying out of his cloak. He took it off just in time to shove it at Aegon, as his brother jogged by from helping unload, "And you can carry the heavy son of a bitch too."

"I'll put it back in your trunk," Aegon froze, thinking better of it, "Wait, why doesn't he have to help?"

Oberyn didn't even stop the unruly horse he was helping to unload, "He's a guest."

"Guest my right testi…"

"Alright," Doran pleaded, "Can we please not show out in public? No reason to advertise that we're a circus."

Sansa laughed as Nymeria drug her betrothed off, "I've missed this."

"Anarchy?" Doran suggested.

"Family."

"I suppose that answers how the cest pit is," He responded.

Sansa flushed, but it was so true. Any place that wasn't King's Landing was a proverbial utopia. It had been nothing like her first time, but it was a brutal place. The variable axis of the wheel on which the game of thrones was played, escaping it was freeing.

"Doesn't it, though?" Ellaria remarked.

"So, you're going to marry Aegon," Dorea demanded. Sansa could tell right away because of the characteristic morningstar on her belt, that Aegon had warned her about. She was eating a lemon and appraising the Winter Rose, "Why?"

"Because I love him," Sansa answered honestly, "And it'll prevent several wars ."

She seemed to appreciate that, "Do you really have a wolf?"

"Yes, her name is Lady."

"And so does the White Wolf," Doran reminded his youngest nieces, "Jon has a wolf named Ghost."

"Has he ever made a sound?" Elia popped up at Jon's other elbow. She had the brown haired girl, who should be Obella, standing behind her.

"Never."

"Not once?" She challenged, "He's completely silent?"

"As the grave," Jon told her evenly.

"Woah."

"Alright," Oberyn called them over to two carriages, "Dorea, Loreza, the two of you are with me and Mother. Tyene, Aegon, you're with Uncle Doran, Sansa, and Jon."

All the oldest Sand Snakes loaded up with their father, but since Sansa's carriage had one spot left, Sarella joined them. It was interesting to watch a Viper pout. One wouldn't think they'd have the lips for it.

The carriage ride to the Old Palace was pleasant enough. Sansa enjoyed Tyene and Aegon recounting everything, from the day her betrothed arrived in King's Landing, to the Black Wedding. Doran asked questions and scolded his nephew for showing out in the middle of a mission, but overall they all just jested and recounted the tale.

They were departing the carriage when Doran changed the subject from their time in King's Landing. His aid was just getting him situated in his chair, when the Prince of Dorne revealed, "Lady Sansa, I have a surprise for you. It just arrived two nights ago. I would have brought it to your arrival, but I didn't think it was for public display."

She turned where he indicated and gasped in delight as the sight registered, "Mother!"

"Hello, darling," Catelyn beamed, "We thought one of your parents should be here when you got married."

Sansa squealed and hugged the maiden Tully tight. She had resigned herself to perhaps asking Jon to walk her down the aisle to Aegon. Slowly though, she remembered, "The boys?"

"Safe in the Eyrie with Uncle Brynden and Yohn," Catelyn assured, combing her hands through the loose locks cascading around Sansa's waist, "Oh, you're windblown."

Jon snorted, where he and Aegon were stretching from the brief carriage ride, "Weeks on a ship, I'm surprised we don't have to shave it all off."

Sansa giggled, "Probably a good thing we didn't bring the wolves."

"Would have jumped ship and swam for shore," He agreed.

"Don't say that!" She scolded, "They're still sailing with Father."

"Wolf overboard!" Elia joked at Aegon's elbow.

Jon laughed, "Who's going to jump after them?"

"Alright," Cat called the jesting to an end, rubbing Sansa's back, "No wolves are going overboard. Let's get you two settled."

They were moving into the Old Palace proper when a massive roar shook the ground. Sansa didn't have to guess about what creature made that sound. She looked back toward her brother and betrothed, who'd been moving at the back of their party.

Everyone was watching as two massive dragons landed in the courtyard, snaking themselves around the carriages in a way one wouldn't think possible for such massive creatures. They weren't as big as they had been at Winterfell, but they were large enough to ride.

Mother's Mercy, they were big enough for ten people to ride.

One was solid black and had yellow eyes; he'd bonded to the Dragon Queen in her original life, to disastrous ends. The other Sansa hadn't seen before. He was bright red and gold, and he shined brighter than a flame, even in the dark of night, and lit only by torches. Both Targaryens were frozen at the sight.

"Well, I had thought they'd show up at the docks," Doran admitted. He turned in his chair and waved both the boys toward the dragons, "I hope you're both ready to start training, because as of tomorrow you're stuck with Oberyn until they have some manners."

Sansa didn't think either of them heard a word that their uncle said. They were both too busy playing the struck maiden. She was surprised when it was her mother who took to encouraging them.

"Go on, Jon," Cat shooed him toward the dragon when he startled and looked at her, "Go meet him."

Jon and Aegon shared a grin, before both bounced back down the steps into the Old Palace. Sansa stayed back with Tyene and Sarella, while her mother joined the Martell brothers on the entryway at the top, and Ellaria was with the older half across the stonework from the Winter Rose. None of them could look away.

Nothing happened at first. Both teenagers approached and were sniffed at by the fire breathing reptiles, but they didn't set to eating them.

Aegon grinned, "Hey big guy, remember me?" He raised a hand to pet the dragon he'd dreamed of being apart to, "You weren't supposed to grow until I got back."

"Stranger be acknowledged," Oberyn snorted, "But they defied that order."

Sticking his hand out, it took a few moments, but the dragon allowed Aegon to pet him. After observing his brother's success, Jon moved to touch his own dragon. The dark beast was willful, but after a moment even Balerion reborn couldn't resist the White Wolf's charms.

Sansa was shocked when Aegon turned to her, calling the maiden over to meet his dragon. Though she was nervous, having never been around the dragons because of Dany, the Red Wolf made herself walk over confidently. At her feet were Loreza and Dorea, as well as Elia and Obella.

Looking back she saw that Ellaria was nervous, but the tension in her shoulder also seemed resigned. The Red Viper's paramour seemed to know that there would be no denying her children this opportunity. After all, Sansa assumed they were their father's children through and through, and there were two dragons.

It actually wound up being Jon who was surrounded by the younger kids, while she was wrapped in Aegon's arms. He chuckled at how tense she was, "Don't worry, I'd never let him hurt you."

Sansa was still fully pressed back against him when he brought her hand toward the beast, "What's his name?"

"Sunaxes."

"I hadn't thought of that," Jon admitted, Loreza in his arms, and all the other little Sand Snakes at his feet, their small hands on the great black dragon, "I suppose you'll need a name too… Hmm."

Of course that led to all the kids throwing out suggestions.

Sansa finally made contact with the dragon and immediately jerked her hand back. It didn't hurt really, but none of them were expecting steam to erupt from around her hand in a white cloud. Everyone jumped, from the Winter Rose to Doran.

"Sansa, are you alright?" Jon demanded, already moving toward them.

"I'm fine," She assured him, surprised as Sunaxes started bobbing his head in her direction. Realizing he'd liked the sensation, Sansa put a hand back on his massive snout and after a moment the steam disappeared, even as she stroked him. The creature purred, pushing closer to her until Sansa put both hands on him, and she had to giggle at his neediness.

After a moment, it seemed that Jon's dragon got jealous. Her brother was quick to guard the little children from accidentally being squashed, as his dragon tried to butt the creature's brother out of the way. One carriage was knocked over, as the two fought over Sansa's attention.

"What did I say?!" Doran demanded, "No manners! None at all!"

Jon and Aegon yelled at the dragons, calling them off of each other. The two separated, as Sansa moved back toward their party with the Sand Snakes, and after another moment of growling, the beasts took to the sky. Their departure shook the ground as they disappeared into the night sky.

"We'll have to remember that trick of Sansa's for training," Oberyn noted, as they entered the entryway of the Old Palace.

Everything was golden, decorated with spears and red sun's, and portraits of Martells long passed. Sansa looked around mesmerized. Her mother was to one side of her and Aegon was on the other, an arm slung over her shoulders.

He beamed at her when she looked at him with awe.

"Well then, once you all get freshened up, we'll meet at the Welcoming Feast," Doran instructed, "We're already fashionably late."

That made their stop in the rooms quick. Catelyn Stark helped her daughter freshen up and redid her hair, before ushering her back out of the room. For all the complaining that Sansa had done before her mother's arrival in King's Landing, she had to admit that the woman had been too busy with Rickon and Robin to nag her. The truth was that she'd largely still been running things and responsible for Arya and Bran, just as it had been.

Now, with only her and Jon in Dorne, Sansa felt a bit like a true child again. It wasn't difficult to fall into step just behind the previous Lady of Winterfell, as this was the position in which the Winter Rose had grown up. Life as Catelyn's shadow had been demanding, and perhaps at times too much for her age, but it hadn't been all bad.

When there were lemon cakes waiting in her room, that had a glorious view of an oasis just outside of the Old Palace, with palm trees and small dessert rabbits with antlers that Aegon had told her of but she hadn't quite believed, it was easier to remember. Her life at Winterfell had been so much like this happy moment. Full of hidden treats from her mother and dolls from her father.

Full of her siblings and laughter and snow fights. So much had happened since she woke up in Winterfell almost two years ago, but so much had happened before then. After her previous life, Sansa had always felt guilty for thinking about the good times, after the calamity she caused. Now, there was less hurt there, as she strived to make a difference in the world.

She did make sure to check on Tywin, who had been given more food and something which had him promptly unconscious. The Maester attending him seemed competent, if curious about how Sansa knew so much about torture treatments. They left once she was sure the man would be safe asleep until morning.

Walking into the Welcoming Feast was an experience. There were lanterns made of a sheer reflective material hanging from the ceiling, which cascaded lights of the color material each was crafted from to glitter around the room. Music with heavy drums played low as Arianne led them to the head table.

Doran was sitting in the center of the head table, with their Targaryens princes trapped between him and Oberyn, and Ellaria and the Sand Snakes fanned out past their parents. Sansa was sat next to the ruling prince of Dorne, her mother next to her, and the older Martells three children streaming down from them.

There were plenty of tables with tan seats and gold accents, but there were also scattered extended cushions and enormous pillows scattered around the edges of the room. The scent of incense hung heavy in the air and Sansa spotted more lemoncakes spread out immediately as she sat down.

Doran stood briefly to make announcements. He talked about her marriage and his excitement to give two Targaryens princes back to Westeros. Everyone cheered and he sat back down as the feast began.

Sansa had no idea who the nobility of Dorne was, not by face, at least. But it was a packed hall and she got the sense that everyone had turned out to see this day through, especially with their wedding in a week. She chatted pleasantly with Doran throughout the meal.

As the formal dinner was coming to a close and dancing was about to begin, down the table Elia grew restless, "This place is boring. Can't we at least go to the Water Gardens?"

"Yeah," Sansa was surprised when her betrothed cried out in agreement, "To the Water Gardens!"

And so, slowly, the chant began to build, "Water Gardens! Water Gardens!"

Slowly it creeped down the table until all of the Sand Snakes and even Oberyn were participating. Down from Sansa, Doran's children were also cheering.

The ruling prince rolled his eyes, shouting, "Does this look like a Free City to you Wildlings?!"

But it built and built still around them. Even the nobility below the head table joined in the chant, pounding on the table for emphasis. Soon the whole hall, except for Doran, Sansa, and her mother were chanting loudly.

Finally, the older Martell brother slammed his hand down on the table, "Alright! I have made a decision. Tomorrow… We go to the Water Gardens."

The cheer that erupted lasted the whole night.


	7. Chapter 7

The Welcoming Feast was a large and gallant party. It was filled with rich and spicy food, and bodies dancing in a fast paced style that required hip movements Sansa hadn't thought possible. She got to know the rest of her Dornish family eagerly, as the night went on.

Arianne had been sent to bring her to the feast, along with Obella. The heiress of Dorne was charming, if slightly flirtatious. She had a list of lovers and didn't plan to marry until her cousin had taken the Seven Kingdoms. It turned out that Doran had taken her father's advice and informed the girl of his initial plan to marry her to Viserys.

Though she hadn't been happy about it, Arianne had confirmed all her siblings were in a much better place with Doran currently. Quentyn was just glad to not have to take responsibility for Dorne and Trystane wanted to be a knight like his uncle.

She was glad to have met Obella, as Sansa got the sense the girl was struggling to figure out who she was. Sarella truly counted among the older Sand Snakes and of the younger half Obella was stuck in the middle. Where Elia was the troublemaker, Dorea was the resourceful one, and Loreza was the baby, Obella didn't know who she was yet.

And that was normal for a girl of ten and two, Sansa tried to assure her. Of course, she had to remember that she was only four years older than the middle snake. Still, she tried to assure the girl that there was time.

Sansa even got to meet Edric Dayne, the lord who had graciously lent his house to their ruse in King’s Landing. He was a soft man, similar to Varys, and she quite enjoyed talking to him. In addition to the Lord of House Dayne, she also met Lord Harmen Uller, Ellaria’s father. He had the Sand’s mother on his arm and Sansa tried not to show her discomfort at being around another red priestess, but they didn’t stay long.

Ellaria’s mother insisted on calling her, “Suvion Dāria hen Azōr Ahaī,” before kissing her forehead and walking away. Sansa had been so confused, left to share an odd look with Aegon, who hadn’t known what it meant either. They had both gone searching for Oberyn and his paramour as they left the dance floor and found out that it translated to something like “Ice Queen of the Promised Prince.”

Sansa had to admit that she loved being with her mother. The maiden Tully slept in her rooms that first night, the two of them talking about everything, from the Wildling army to Ysilla being with child to Sansa’s wedding. They also talked a lot about Rickon and Robin in the Eyrie and how the young Arryn was still processing all that he’d been through in the last six months, from his mother to the Black Wedding.

Her second day in Dorne she’d worn her peach and red dress, along with Eila Martell’s circlet. It served both to endear people to her, as well as helping Sansa survive the heat. She only wandered out once that day and that was to check on dragon training in the sands beyond the oasis she could see from her room.

The training was… going. That was all Sansa could say when she first arrived. All the dragons, both teenagers and beasts, looked ready to team up and arrange a horrible accident for Oberyn, but he truly was trying to help. All of them livened up when she wandered out with Obella and Elia.

The troublemaker of the Sand Snakes liked Sansa well enough, but her one true love was her older cousin Aegon, so the Winter Rose understood her jealousy. After a day to put it all together, she thought the two bonded because Aegon didn’t remember his mother, so he couldn’t expect her to act just like Elia Martell, but he also appreciated her having the name. That was very different from Oberyn, who hadn’t quite lost his need for his daughter to be his sister reborn.

Either way, the Red Viper got much better results, after he stationed Sansa to pet the dragons every time they did what he wanted. No one knew why steam was created when she touched them, but apparently it soothed the pair of brothers. Jon and Aegon were more cooperative as well, with an audience to show off for according to Oberyn. They stayed outside for hours, before Ellaria finally found them.

And Mother’s Mercy, did Sansa find out why she’d been concerned that night, as they were packing up to travel to the Water Gardens. Her skin was red as her betrothed’s dragon and it ached, and itched, and made her miserable. To be fair, the woman’s paramour felt absolutely awful for forgetting Sansa’s white as snow skin, and offered her every potion he had to make it better.

All the more, days three and four were spent inside.

The Water Gardens were beautiful. Sansa was able to see the large pool with spouts everywhere, off the center of the newer palace. There were palm trees and other greenery growing even indoors, and even some flowers, of which there were several blossoms floating in the top of the main pool.

Even more little pools were off to the side and sheltered under tents or grottos. It was in one such pool that Ellaria and Catelyn sequestered Sansa. She had been slathered with a green slimy substance that Oberyn had sworn would help and her mother had prayed all night that her skin would peel prior to the wedding. As someone who had never had sunburn in her life, the Red Wolf had been horrified by the way that they described it.

Still, she sat in her thin cotton dress that the Dornish typically wore while swimming, and designed her wedding dress with her mother, Ellaria, Tyene, and Sarella. The youngest of their party chased out Aegon, Jon, and the younger Sand Snakes, when they were sent to spy on Sansa's design. And that was most of her free time until her wedding.

For days it went on in a similar fashion. Until the day before her wedding, when dawn hadn't yet broken the horizon, and Sansa had just been coming back from praying. It had taken a few days, but her body had adjusted to the most unique sleep pattern in the Seven Kingdoms, being in Dorne.

It was the sound of flapping wings that first drew her attention outside. Glancing to the glass doors that made up her balcony, Sansa started at seeing Aegon there, standing atop Sunaxes' giant gold head. She smiled and ran over, shaking her head, "What are you doing here?"

"Reclaiming my betrothed!" The Targaryens prince declared, "I've barely seen you all week."

She giggled, scratching the dragon's chin. With training and expectations, they actually were incredible animals, and extremely intelligent, "Well, not all of us get to work with dragons all day. Some of us have a wedding to plan."

He grinned, kneeling down on Sunaxes head and extending his hand toward the maiden, "Take a break?"

Both of their heads shot east when Oberyn caught them, "What are you two doing? Get that beast away from the Gardens!"

Aegon looked back at her smirking, "It's now or never, Sans."

She couldn't help it. Sansa laughed and took his hand, stepping up onto the bench located just inside the balcony railing, and then onto the dragon. Aegon got her situated and took off amidst the yelling.

"What are you… No, no, no! Aegon! Don't you dare!" The Red Viper shouted, "Aegon! AEGON!!!"

Anything said after that was beyond their hearing range as Sunaxes soared up and up. Sansa clung to her prince's middle as the red and gold beast levelled off, unable to believe what she had just done. As the ascent stopped, she looked at the world around them.

Taking it in took a moment. Below was Sunspear, but it was fast disappearing. On the beaches Sansa could make out several children chasing after the dragon and pointing, while they gave their best to keeping up.

As they left the city, slowly the landscape started to turn more and more to sand. After a few minutes, Sansa hooked her chin over Aegon's shoulder, "I really am supposed to be the good one."

He grinned, "You are the good one. Doesn't mean you can't have a little fun."

When he started to shift beneath her, Sansa moved so that he could change positions. She wasn't quite expecting him to completely turn around, stretching out on the back of the dragon's neck like it was a cushion. As he reached for her, Sansa went, but she was confused until she stretched out under the Dornishman's arm in the spot, and the wind disappeared.

"Sansa…" Aegon hummed, after they cuddled for a few minutes, "Are you excited to marry?"

The question jogged her memory and she beamed at him, "Yes."

She pestered him for answers about where they were going, but to no avail. Her dragon wouldn’t talk, not even when she tried to pull the answer from him with a kiss, though he did say that he’d never been more tempted. Sansa grinned at that.

Before long they had landed in front of a roaring waterfall, surrounded by a white sand beach, and it was all set against a massive white castle. Each tower of the castle was tipped with roofs that looked gold in the light and Sansa couldn’t believe how perfect the spot was, “Where are we?”

“Starfall,” Aegon finally answered, “Edric said I could bring you for a visit.”

They walked around the keep for a while, everyone there knowing exactly who they were without introduction. Apparently they had been all the talk of Dorne, since their departure from King’s Landing to marry. Her betrothed was almost as knowledgeable about House Dayne, as he was concerning House Martell or House Targaryen.

After that they disappeared to walk along the river bank of the Torentine. When they reached a slow passage of the river, on up from the keep, the sun was high in the sky and beating down on them when Aegon suggested a swim. Naturally, Sansa had frozen at the suggestion.

Logically, she knew that her body looked nothing like it had after Ramsay. It just wasn’t something that Sansa expected to happen until the next night. She was supposed to have an entire day to prepare for that.

Aegon grinned at her, “I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor, Sansa. I just want to go swimming.”

That shook her from her state as the Winter Rose rolled her eyes, “I’ll let you make the case to my mother upon our return then.”

He snorted, throwing off his shirt and boots with ease, “My uncle is going to be a right joy. I’ve been getting the same lecture since you wore your Winter Rose to the tourney.”

Sansa huffed, turning so he could undo the laces on her dress, “Please, my father stayed up all that night, making sure we didn’t abscond to Dorne.”

“If only there had been a dragon,” He muttered, looking down to untie his pants.

Sansa laughed as she let her dress fall onto the white sand. Luckily she’d been wearing her favorite dress and a simple braid today, well aware that her wedding day would be vastly busy and demanding, “A dragon indeed. I hope he doesn’t go to Winterfell and try that.”

Aegon glanced upriver and chuckled, “We’ll have ourselves an ice dragon.”

Sunaxes was cute as he enjoyed the cool water, throwing himself into the depths in the faster waters upstream. He swam around the river, probably frightening fish for generations to come, and snacking on a few of them. Sansa would never forget when she’d asked Aegon if he would ever eat people; her betrothed had been so offended that it made her laugh.

“You know we…” He stopped when he saw her. His jaw hung open and then the prince stuttered for a few moments.

Overall, Sansa felt very accomplished. Even more so, when all she did was arch a brow at him and remind, “This was your idea.”

“Best idea I’ve had yet,” He finally managed, running a hand over his face, “Umm… We should go swimming.”

He grabbed her hand and all but drug Sansa into the water. She giggled. It’s not as if she were embarrassed by her small clothes, but they were plain based on what her mother and Ellaria had picked out for the next night. Still, she was glad the plain white cotton covering the red curly bundle between her legs still had an affect on him.

They swam for several hours, before a vision had caused them both to call it a day. It was midafternoon when Sansa first saw the water ripple and she called Aegon’s attention to the vision. He was delighted.

“Oh, yes!” Her betrothed cried, “I’ve never actually seen you do this before!”

“Wonderful, it’s my mother,” Sansa sighed. She couldn’t tell where her mother was, but she was with Doran, Oberyn, Ellaria, and Jon Connington. From the window in the room, which had walls lined with books and maps, the sun placed them several hours prior.

“That’s Uncle Doran’s office,” Aegon revealed.

“Mother have mercy.”

Catelyn Stark was biting at her thumb, as both of them turned their attention fully to the vision. She was pacing the room, while Doran sat behind the desk. Connington was in a window seat behind the ruling prince’s chair and Martell's younger brother was on an extended cushion with his paramour. Poor Oberyn was rubbing his forehead and looked madder than a wolf with a briar in its paw.

“Where are they?” Her mother demanded. It sounded like a repeated question.

“They’ll be back any minute,” Jon assured. He was looking down at something, not bothering to direct his attention elsewhere, and Sansa realized he was cleaning his sword. Clearly he wasn’t worried about them.

“That wasn’t believable two hours ago,” Catelyn hissed, “And it’s not believable now.”

“I cannot believe he did this the day before his wedding,” Doran huffed, slumping in his seat, “This is all your fault.”

Oberyn shrugged him off with an emphatic little wave, “Well, killing him should avenge my honor.”

“Yeah,” Aegon snorted next to her, “Like he hasn’t been threatening that for nineteen years.

Sansa snickered.

“Sansa has never done anything like this!” Her mother sighed, “Wolves! They’re all so emotional!”

She snickered, her head falling onto Aegon’s shoulder as they floated facing one another. He chuckled and pulled her flush against him. Her mother loved to blame it on the wolf blood.

“What are we going to do?” Doran questioned.

“What if we just leave them be?” Ellaria demanded exasperated, “They wanted a little private time prior to the wedding. It’s not the end of the world.”

“Here, here!” Jon agreed.

“We can’t just have them cavorting all over the Seven Kingdoms with a dragon,” Oberyn hissed, “We’ll send search parties.”

“Right,” Doran snorted, “Because your horsemen are going to catch a dragon.”

Sansa’s mother brightened as Dorea went walking past the door, “I know how to find them. Dorea, darling, come in here for a moment.”

The small Sand Snake of eight bounced into the room with her morningstar. She beamed up at the maiden Tully, “Hi, Aunt Cat!”

The girl had taken quite a shine to Catelyn Stark, because everytime she came around looking for something to do, the woman always found something. It was only little things, but Dorea was never bored and always felt useful. Sansa only wished her mother had taken a similar approach to Arya, “Hello, dear. Can you bring Jon to us?”

“Of course!”

“Do you think they’ve already…” Catelyn trailed off as the girl disappeared, but everyone knew what she meant.

Sansa rolled her eyes. She loved her mother, but if the last couple of hours had proven anything to her, it had been that if she wanted Aegon, then she could have him. It would wait until tomorrow, despite how much she’d enjoyed the kissing and touching all day.

No one got the chance to answer, as Jon had apparently been close by. Her brother was the get of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark; he’d been just as red as Sansa the last couple of days, so she wasn’t surprised. He’d probably been reading in his room, when Dorea came, and drug him to Doran’s office.

“Thank you for bringing me, Dorea,” Jon offered, then after the young girl turned to leave, he moved to follow with a nod toward the adults, “Good day.”

“Get back here.”

He might not be Ned Stark’s bastard, but when Catelyn Tully Stark took that tone of voice, he still promptly brought his arse back into the office, plopping down in the window by his namesake. Doran’s aid turned him around so that he could see Jon from one side of the desk, while her mother took the other. Oberyn and Ellaria both rose, so that they could lean on the far side of the desk, meaning her brother was completely surrounded. She felt for their dragon left behind.

“Jon, nephew, precious little prince” Oberyn started, “We have a very simple mission for you.”

“No, thank you,” He started to get up, “Gotta fly!”

“Sit,” He promptly sat back down at her mother’s instruction, “Jon, I want them back here by sundown.”

“They are getting married tomorrow,” He pleaded, “Does this even matter?”

“Yes!” Doran, Catelyn, and Oberyn chorused.

“You are going to go. You are going to find them. And you are going to bring them back here,” Cat hissed in a low tone, backing Jon further and further back into the window, as she towered over him, “Because if you don’t, I will make your life a living hell. You will pray to the old gods and the new that you were just my husband’s bastard, by the time I am finished with you. Do you understand me?”

Slowly Jon pointed to the door suggesting, “Why don’t I just go see where they’ve run off to?” He took out of the office, jumping the desk, making Oberyn and Ellaria scatter, already screaming, “Ballard!”

Sansa wasn’t saying her brother ran out of Doran’s office, as the vision rippled, but he didn’t look back either. As the vision disappeared a roar sounded in the distance, and when Sunaxes responded, both rushed to get out of the water and into their clothes. Both were trying to look semi-presentable when the solid black dragon, ridden by the White Wolf, touched down.

Jon jumped off his new mount, approaching where they were sitting side by side in the sand. Aegon’s boots still weren’t tied and Sansa was combing out her hair to braid, “Wet, dishevelled, and still trying to put your clothes on.” He shook his head at both of them, sharing a look with Ballard, who’s name he’d finally settled on two days before, “Well, we’re not going back.”

“Have a nice chat with Mother?”

Jon snorted, waving his dragon off to play with his brother, before dropping down in the sand next to Sansa, “That woman is shorter than me, smaller than me, and has no battle prowess. There is still not a person on the gods’ ground that I would rather piss off less.”

They had done the numbers together and determined when they had to be back, before killing several more hours at Starfall. The brothers descended into sword fighting, as Sansa played with the dragons. When the time approached that they had to return to Sunspear, both Aegon and Sansa took the hour long lecture at dinner in stride. 

For her betrothed it was taken leaning back on Jon Connington, looking smug and informing the rest that given the opportunity, he’d do it again. For Sansa, it was while making quips about how much Arya would have loved it and how she had to rebel a little, before becoming a married woman. Eventually the adults ran out of things to yell about, considering they hadn’t actually done anything, which they had to swear to on several gods, their own and not.

Sansa’s mother slept in her room that night, though the Mother Wolf used righteous anger, as an excuse to get out of claiming her own sentimentality. Still, they got her washed and ready to go for the next morning. By the time they fell asleep, Catelyn Stark had mellowed enough to ask if she had a nice time in Starfall, to which Sansa offered a breathless agreement.

All of the Sand Snakes, Ellaria, and Arianne broke their fast with them the next morning, while all the men were with Aegon. Gifts were given, Sansa was fascinated by the very tiny dagger that Ellaria presented her with. Apparently, it was a traditional gift for Dornish women, in case their new husband was inattentive or couldn’t handle his alcohol, for women to defend themselves.

Useful, especially when the woman taught her how to tuck it in her sleeve or under a bracelet.

She wasn't expecting such problems with Aegon, but it was nice to have all the same. If her mother was a little squeamish at the idea, Sansa ignored it. There was more to life than her mother's traditionalist values.

They took the covering off her finished dress, which had sat as such in the room for two days. Sansa had to admit that everyone who had aided her in making it, truly brought her vision to life. It was a bit of an inversion from her dress from the Black Wedding, but better in every way.

It was a bright white silk dress with long and flowing skirts. There were long white draping sleeves that fell off of her shoulders, and stopped just below her knuckles. Grey wolf fur, which their mother had Robb send to the Eyrie before she departed, trimmed the bottom of the skirt, the sleeves, and the top of the dress, around her chest and shoulders.

A light grey shimmering material was used to scatter snowflakes across the skirt. And she paired the dress with her white bracelet from Lord Varys, her Red Wolf ruby belt, and her winter rose necklace. She did make one change to the belt, however. After finding garnet clips in the shape of red suns and weirwood leaves, she attached them to the belt, alternating from the wolf about her waist. Finally, she put Elia Martell's circlet in place.

Her mother had also made her a white fox fur shawl. Of course, it was too hot to wear it in Dorne, but the woman thought she should have one. Any bad memories that Sansa had concerning it, were chased away when her mother took the remaining grey fur and stitched the Stark family direwolf right in the middle.

Her hair had been a battle from the beginning. Northern styles, Riverland styles, and Dornish styles all battling it out for a shot at her hair. Finally, she'd put her foot down and designed something in the middle.

The bottom half was left to flow free like most Riverland styles, while she had small interlocking braids creating a web on the top, the durable but creative twists a Dornish inspired idea. Then, at the beginning and end where each tiny braid started, Sansa had them run her hair through a pearl, a Northern tradition. In the end, everyone had to bow to her design, and cease hostilities.

When she managed to get a moment alone, while Ellaria and her mother went to check on the carriage, Sansa twirled in front of the looking glass. She felt like a princess. Still, a part of her wished that her father was here.

"Oh, darling…"

Sansa turned and looked at her mother who was already crying. She moved over to hug the woman, remembering when there was nothing that wouldn't have been done for this chance. At least her mother was here.

"I love you, Mother."

"And I love you, my sweet girl," Catelyn assured her, "Now… Do you have any questions about tonight?"

"No, Aegon and I discussed it yesterday," She admitted, flushing, "He's… Versed, if not overly experienced."

"A much more eloquent way to put it, then most of your age could," She smiled, patting Sansa's cheek, "Well then, I suppose there is no more putting it off. Your carriage is here."

They rode to the sept together. By the time they arrived, everyone else was already seated inside, meaning the smallfolk present with flowers, actually got the first glimpse of the bride. A small boy too startled to speak presented her with the same red flower that Loreza had on her first day in Dorne, and Sansa happily leaned down to kiss his little cheek. As he went squawking back to a giddy looking mother, Sansa started up the aisle with her mother, amidst the flowers and petals being tossed on them.

The sept in Sunspear reminded her of the Old Palace. Filled with shining gold and red suns and spears, Sansa was glad that they were marrying here, if not in the North. She loved Aegon and his family, and they had all worked so hard to make this day special for her.

Sansa could hear the Septon completing his reading from  _ The Seven Pointed Star  _ and it was brief… Very brief. There was a brief flash before her eyes, in which she saw Aegon giving the man a look, beyond the season oak doors blocking them from sight, and it made her giggle. She had to shake her head at her mother, when the woman looked at her curiously.

When the time came and the doors were open, Catelyn Stark walked her daughter down the aisle and presented her to Aegon. Sansa was speechless. He was standing before the Septon, but it was different from her vision; she could see all of him.

Her prince was so handsome, in his black slacks and stark white tunic. Emblazoned on his chest was his personal sigil, the black dragon wings standing out proudly, while he wore a black cloak, and had another draped over his forearm. She didn’t need to see three heads to know the sigil that each cloak bore.

She and Aegon beamed at one another for the duration of the walk. When she was presented to him, Sansa looked back to see her mother join Jon on the front bench. She’d had the dream the night before of her brother not knowing where to sit, but finally deciding that she couldn’t walk into the sept and no one be sitting there for her. Seeing him handing her mother a handkerchief was touching.

The bride and groom grinned at one another.

Catching the look, the Septon, an older portly man, instructed them quickly, “You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

Sansa turned and allowed the white maiden cloak that her mother had made, with the Stark sigil, to be taken off of her. She felt the black silk take its place and couldn’t help but wonder what sort of dragon she would be.

When she turned back around, the septon then proclaimed, "My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever."

The traditional white and gold ribbon tied them together, as the man continued, “Let it be known that Prince Aegon of House Targaryen, Son of Dorne, and Heir to the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros…” Aegon raised a brow at the man, who dropped his voice into a whisper and answered honestly, “He threatened me with poison, son. Be reasonable,” before going right back into their wedding, “And Lady Sansa of House Stark and the North are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder."

Sansa couldn’t help it, she giggled.

Aegon rolled his eyes.

The ribbon was unravelled, but they remained holding hands.

“Look upon each other and say the words of the Seven.”

They each recited easily, “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…”

“I am his and he is mine, from this day until the end of my days,” Sansa said.

“I am hers and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days,” Aegon chorused the reverse with her.

Her dragon prince smiled and stepped towards her, “With this kiss, I pledge my love.”

Sansa’s hand went to his jaw as they kissed. When he pulled back, she didn’t really want him to, but remembered after a moment that they were still in the middle of a sept. Still holding hands, they turned to face the audience, which erupted into applause.

They strolled back down the aisle married and Sansa wasn’t sure her heart hadn’t left her chest. It was excitement and nerves and having had a choice. Having her family here for the moment only made it better.

When they stepped out the sept doors, there were cheers and more flowers being thrown at them. Aegon helped her into the carriage and followed after his bride a moment later. Sansa was confused when she found her fur shawl in the carriage, “What is this doing here?”

“Well… I may, sort of,” Aegon confessed, “Be in cahoots with the other wolves of the North.”

“Other… You mean my mother and Jon?”

“Yes, them,” Aegon acknowledged, pulling out a bag of coin, “My uncle may have the Septon, but I have our driver.”

The man in question snorted, as the coin changed hands, “And you’re sure the Red Viper won’t know who I am?”

“Not a clue, my friend,” Aegon ensured, turning his attention back to Sansa, arm going around her, “We’re going on a flight. We have a couple of hours before we’re missed.”

Sansa was confused, “A couple of hours?”

He chuckled, “This is Dorne, we don’t have bedding practices, or anything similar. We marry in the morning, nap while it’s hot, and then have the feast that night. We’re supposed to be going to the Old Palace to…”

“And, instead, you’re absconding with me?”

“Don’t worry, I promise you’ll love the surprise.”

“Does that mean I can’t know where we’re going?”

“It does.”

That was perturbing, but their visit to Starfall had been splendid, so Sansa didn’t truly mind. When they arrived at the Old Palace, no one else had arrived, except for Jon, who was waiting with the dragons. They creatures were packed with several trunks tied off with ropes.

Where in the...

He rolled his eyes at both of them, “I hope you’re both happy. I don’t know which of the Stark children is the good one now!”

"Oh, Jon," Sansa admonished, "Live a little."

"Live a little, she says," He muttered right back, "None of us are going to live if they catch us. Your mother can only hold them off from checking in for so long."

Sansa froze at seeing Tywin Lannister boarding Ballard, "Should you be flying?"

"I've been cleared for a few hours, Maester Stark."

"A gentleman should never snarl at a lady," Sansa snapped right back. For every Lannister saying the Old Lion wanted to throw out, or sassy remark he made, she had one from Catelyn Tully, "It's unbecoming."

Aegon helped her onto Sunaxes and then took both of their Targaryen cloaks, tying them together. Once Sansa was settled on top of the fire breathing reptile and hiding behind his neck, her prince got seated and they started upward. Evening out, her new husband had her lay down, reclining on the dragon's neck, before joining her.

He threw the joined cloaks over them, so that both covered them from head to ankle, "So both your hair and our temperature are protected."

"I don't think we have to worry about the temperature dropping in Dorne."

"No," He grinned, "But we've learned that when dragons fly too high, even in Dorne, the temperature drops. We need to go higher to travel faster, though."

They talked for what felt like hours. Mostly about the children they wanted. Sansa could wait to have a wild and obnoxious boy, Aegon couldn't wait to have a little princess. Sansa did learn that if they had a daughter first, her husband fully intended for her to inherit the Seven Kingdoms; one couldn't remove the Dornish from the boy, he claimed.

As a woman who had to watch her siblings slaughtered to have a claim to the North, Sansa gladly let her daughters' have a shot at managing the chaos that was Westeros. The Seven Kingdoms, the North, Dorne; whatever their lot in life, she'd wish them luck and love. She wouldn't give them the summer child veils her parents had in her original life, however.

They also talked about their return to King's Landing. The next time his and Sansa's families came to the capital, they would be there to retake it for the Targaryen dynasty. From the bottom of her heart though, she hoped that Margery and her baby were safe. Her and Ysilla were both a few months on now.

He asked her if she'd had visions of where they were going. Her response in the negative got shorter every single time. Mostly because she was trying and failing to do just that.

Aegon was right, as they flew the temperature kept dropping. It didn't bother Sansa, but she wound up letting him use her wolf shawl, calling him a babe, "I am not! This is just ridiculous!"

"Oh, it's just a little chill," She dismissed, "It's still summer."

"Little… Thank the gods were almost there."

"Good, the sooner we descend, the sooner you'll stop whining."

He opened his mouth wide to respond, then seemed to think better of whatever snapper was on the end of his tongue. Realizing what she'd almost succeeded in doing, he set her with a look, "I'm not telling you, Sansa."

"Please!"

"No."

"I'll make your wildest dreams come true!"

"You married me, woman," He shrugged, "We take over this kingdom, they can write my tributes while we raise our children and run this mess, then I die happy in my sleep during old age! My list isn't that long."

"Hmm…" Sansa thought over the list, as her vision rippled, "You'll get every one of those things."

He rolled slightly, still keeping the cloak covering trapped beneath him, but covering her, "Oh really, do the visions confirm it, then?"

"Yes… But, don't get cocky! You can spend a lot of time in the kennels before then."

"Of course, love," He chuckled and kissed her.

A few minutes later and Sunaxes roared. She felt when they started to descend, Aegon holding both of them down against the dragon with a curse. When they finally hit the ground, Ballard also roaring next to them, he loosened his grip, "Overly enthusiastic reptile."

She had to close her eyes when he moved to get up, because he was so worried about spoiling the surprise. After a moment he started letting her off the dragon, but only as long as she swore to keep her eyes on the ground. Sansa wasn't going to ruin his moment, so she did as the Targaryen prince bid.

His hands came up over her eyes as soon as they were on the ground, her wolf cloak about her shoulders, and started to move then forward. When they finally came to a stop, she could hear his grin, "Ready?"

"Are you sure you don't want to wait a while longer?"

"Don't jest."

"Fine, fine. I'm ready."

His hands moved away and she opened her eyes.

"Surprise!"

Sansa's hand flew to her mouth. It was Robb and Ysilla, and they were next to her father and Arya! Looking around they were in Winterfell!

They were all here! And there were the Umbers, and the Mormonts, the Karstarks, and the Manderleys behind the Stark procession! Everyone was here for...

Her gaze swung to Aegon and he was grinning from ear to ear, "You said you'd marry me before the olds gods and the new."

The Red Wolf hugged him, before running over to her father. Ned Stark picked her up and swung her around, before he put her down to give Robb access. Her big brother did much the same, Arya elbowing in after.

Standing next to the previous Warden of the North were Ghost and Lady. When she dropped down to hug her silver she wolf, the literal white wolf took that as permission to run over to Jon. Sansa couldn't wait to see them introduced to the dragons.

Ysilla was the gentlest spirit that Sansa had ever met. She waited patiently until the other wolves had their moment, before Robb remembered himself and pulled her in to meet Sansa. The Winter Rose hugged her tight and asked her how her heir to the title was doing.

Robb snorted, "Nice try, Sansa. The next Warden of the North isn't going to take that kind of lip."

And so started the endless debate concerning the babe's gender.

After the customary ribbing, Greatjon called out, "Alright, Ned, sun's almost set. Who's officiating this? Before the snow hits."

Looking up, it did look like snow.

"Snow? It's summer!"

Everyone laughed at Aegon's expense and Sansa was reminded of her first experience with spicy foods. He took it well enough, even when Wyman Manderly shouted, "Someone get the boy a fur, before we have to delay the bedding!"

The wolves formed a quick circle, Jon dragging Aegon in with them, when Robb called everyone over. The new Warden of the North took charge impressing Sansa, "Alright, we've got one problem with the surprise. We need an officiator. It's usually the groom's father."

"I am walking Sansa down," Her father damn near growled, "I'm not giving that up."

"We heard you the first hundred times you said it," Robb rolled his eyes, "You make one suggestion…"

"I'll do it!"

"Arya, you're my sister and I love you," Sansa assured her, "But, no."

"Why not?"

"Because if I want to hear your Old Nan impression," She explained, "It won't be at my wedding!"

"Fair, I would not pass up that opportunity."

Robb stepped forward, "I'll do it, if you want me to, Sansa?"

That perked Aegon's interest, "Could Jon do it?"

They all looked at him and Sansa could tell he felt surrounded by wolves at the moment. Which wasn't inaccurate, so she wouldn't correct him. Still he managed to stumble out, "I just thought if her brother could, mine might be more traditional. Jon knows how, right?"

The White Wolf snorted, "I could recite it in my sleep."

"Alright, then," Robb agreed, "Jon, grab His Grace and we'll bring him out to the godswood."

Jon chuckled, seizing his brother in a headlock, and dragging him along, "Ready for a real Blessing of the By Laws?"

"Ahh, fuck…"

Sansa wasn't surprised when Arya yelled after them, "Wait! I'm coming with you!" She still felt delight when her sister wrapped her in another hug, before she left.

"I want to hear all about Mormont Island "

She beamed and nodded, before jogging after the boys.

Suddenly thinking Jon's comment through, Sansa turned to their father concerned. Ned Stark waved her off, as he started leading her into Winterfell, when all the other lords started their trek using the main path through the godswood. Robb had taken Aegon the long way around.

Lady kept right at her side the entire time.

"They're going to threaten him with bodily harm and give him his own wolf cloak, like Jon's," Ned told her, "Perfectly standard procedure."

She arched a brow at him, "In our family?"

"He'll be fine" Ned assured, "How is your mother?"

"She almost went to war over my hair," Sansa admitted, "But, she also gave us a chance to sneak away, so well enough."

"I'm glad."

"No, Father, don't be sad," It hurt Sansa to see him hurt, "Just retire as Hand, go to the Eyrie."

"And leave you alone in King's Landing? I think not."

"Oh, Tywin's had that job for a damn century, let him… Tywin!"

"Already in the keep," Ned placated her, "He came in before your big reveal. He'll be at the wedding with Jaime."

Her heartbeat slowed at the information. It had only been a week, but they'd bonded as if it had been a lifetime. There was so much to learn from sitting around with sunburn, sketching wedding dresses, and listening to the Great Lion debate Doran Martell.

That relieved Sansa as they moved into the newlywed suite of Winterfell. Luckily her hair had minimal damage, thanks to her husband planning ahead. She didn't want to keep everyone waiting.

When she turned ready to go, it struck the Red Wolf that she'd lost her father's attention. Sansa wandered over to see what he was looking at and froze. All of Ned Stark's children had always been told the maiden cloak in his hand had been destroyed.

"This was the only thing my sister took when she ran away from Winterfell," The Quiet Wolf revealed.

The cloak was lovely. White as fresh fallen snow, with a shiny silk silver direwolf in the center. Scattered around the white cloth were well placed silk winter roses and weirwood leaves.

"I found it in the Tower of Joy, when… Where Jon was born," He decided on, "But, this was her plan. And I think it only right that I see it through to the fullest."

Sansa turned, letting him pin the maiden cloak in place, then she wrapped her shawl around her arms so that the wolf was showing, "Thank you, Papa."

He kissed her crown above the circlet, "Well, I don't suppose we can put it off any longer. It's time to get you married, like a Stark."

As they walked through the keep and toward the godswood, everyone running around, preparing for the feast, Sansa realized, wished her luck and love. Just as they walked through the iron gate, snow started to sprinkle down on them. All along the main path through the godswood the various lords were holding torches to light the way, before each fell into step behind them. She even spotted Jaime and Tywin holding torches in the snow.

By the time they reached the clearing with the heart tree, Sansa was already fighting tears. It was only made worse when Lady stayed right by her side the entire walk, perching next to her, even once she was handed off the Aegon.

Jon was there in his grey tunic bearing Ghost and his dragon wings, along with his Targaryen wolf cloak. He looked comfortable and imposing, with a white direwolf by his side. The truth was out and he was comfortable with who he was; he didn’t need the approval of these Northern lords anymore, but she could see that he was glad to have it.

Aegon was off to the side. He’d been given a cloak matching Jon’s, except his wolf fur was so dark, that it perfectly matched his black cloak. It was a deep contrast to his personal sigil and white tunic. Sansa could see the Targaryen sigil on the cloak he had over his forearm and smiled.

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” Jon demanded in his usual brooding voice.

“Sansa, of House Stark, comes here to be wed. A woman grown,” Her father didn’t stumble on the last word, but he seemed to hate saying it, “True born and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Old Gods. Who comes to claim her?”

“Aegon, Sixth of His Name, of House Targaryen,” He stepped up beside her, “Heir to the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. Who gives her?”

“Lord Eddard, of House Stark, her father.”

Sansa felt a tear roll down her cheek at the pronouncement.

Jon smiled at her, catching the moment, “Lady Sansa, will you take this man?”

Taking Aegon’s hand she smiled, “I take this man.”

They turned to kneel before the heart tree, hands still clasped. After a moment, in which Sansa thanked the Old Gods for this opportunity, they stood together. She turned to allow him to exchange her maiden cloak for the cloak bearing the Targaryen sigil. Only when it was about her shoulders did Sansa realize it was also a wolf cloak of her own, only this was a fur that was so red, it almost perfectly matched her hair.

As they rose and turned, Grey Wind, Lady, and Nymeria all threw their heads back and howled. Even Ghost threw his head back, though the humans could hear no sound.

Turning to a cheering crowd, Sansa was hoisted into Aegon’s arms and carried off to the feast. Arriving in the Great Hall, Aegon put her down before the head table, everyone streaming in right after them. She and Aegon sat at the center of the table, since it was their wedding, and Jon had the undisputed seat to his brother’s right. There was a bit of a disturbance when her father and Robb both went for the seat next to Sansa.

She arched a brow, curious to how they'd settle that dispute, but her brother conceded graciously. They ate and danced for hours. Sansa also chatted with her siblings about their adventures since she'd last seen them.

Getting to know Ysilla was a treat. She was bright and charming. The girl was enthusiastic about hearing word of her father and his excitement concerning her pregnancy. The Bronze Wolf is what she'd been dubbed by the North, but Sansa got the sense that it wouldn't be long before she inherited Catelyn Stark's title as Mother Wolf.

Arya had done so well at Mormont Island. She'd learned so much and couldn't wait to spar with Jon and Aegon the next day. Dacey was there with her family, who all praised her sister's hard work. She was an honorary She Bear.

Finally, after he'd made the rounds and their father ventured forth to chat with his friends, other lords who were also starting to let their children run things, Robb returned to the table. She embraced him and they talked all about his betrothal and the attack on White Harbor, the nomination of a King Beyond the Wall and the amassing of the Wildling Army.

Sansa learned that the Wildlings had been given passage at Castle Black, while she was travelling. They would station there, as long as they stayed in accord with the laws of Westeros, as Robb investigated a proclaimed larger threat. Apparently, they had set traps for the unknown enemy.

That meant it wouldn't be much longer. Once the wights were realized, the true challenge of her time travel would begin. And they still had to retake the throne prior.

Still, Sansa and Aegon both swore that when they retook the capital, Robb had their unending support. He looked relieved, knowing that their next trip would be to the capital. No one wanted to discuss a plan on her wedding night, but Sansa could tell that everyone was eager for a fight.

With the stags and roses, Wildlings, or an unknown enemy, it mattered not.

Her betrothed loved every minute of it. He ate up being in the North with her and Jon, successfully taking all the lords japes and jests. Aegon's knowledge of their culture impressed many of them.

Given what she'd told her new husband about celebrations in Winterfell, Sansa was surprised when it took as long as it did for someone to call her out. And, of course, it wound up being Wyman Manderly, drunk off his arse, who did so, "Sansa! Sansa! Sing us a song!"

And that was all it took. Soon the whooping and hollering became too much, forcing her hand. So, Sansa demanded they decide which song she was going to sing.

Several fights broke out, earning an eye roll from her father as he knew she was well aware that would happen, before finally everyone settled on The Bear and the Maiden Fair. It was such a dirty song, at its core, that Sansa rolled her eyes at their idea of a joke. Having a maiden sing such a thing on her wedding night.

Still, she figured that if they wanted a spectacle, then she might as well give it to them. During the song she moved her hips in the way she had learned in Dorne and ended the song on Aegon's lap. Everyone cheered, though her father looked ready for the Old Gods to take him right there.

That was when someone called for the bedding. Sansa was resigned to the custom, though she didn't like it. And she felt Aegon tense beneath her.

As the lords started to them though, the air changed. The wolves had taken to laying behind the head table, away from grabby children and drunk wanderers. As soon as they both tensed though, Lady jumped the table.

She snarled and snapped everyone one of the encroachers back from them, baring her teeth and practically daring anyone to defy her. The noise caused Grey Wind, Ghost, and Nymeria to jump up. All three of the larger wolves looked to see what the trouble was, before tearing around the table with snarls and snaps, to aid their sister.

Ned Stark grinned behind his tankard, where he was having a drink with Jon and discussing Dorne, next to Sansa and Aegon. When he lowered his ale however, he rose swiftly and his face was solemn, "If that was unclear, there will be no bedding."

Sansa grinned, standing from Aegon's lap and pulling him up, so they could escape. When Ned nodded them out the servant's exit, she grabbed Aegon and kissed his cheek as they passed. The Winter Rose was in no way surprised when all four wolves surrounded them on the way out, going as far as the door of the newlywed suite.

Surprised to be excited for her wedding night, Sansa knew that there would be hard times ahead. They had to retake the throne and face the Second Long Night. At the same time, no longer was she in this alone.

She and Aegon were going to remake the world together. It would never be without pain and failure, but they would do more good than harm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright folks, this is it! Kinda... It's the ending of Part 1 for this story, but their will be a Part 2 and Part 3 for this series. What I will do, when I start posting and get the series listed, is to post an extra chapter here to alert those interested. Then I'll delete it. Part 2 will be about the conquest of the Iron Throne (Much messier business then this story) and Part 3 will be about the Second Long Night (Messy, messy business). Thank you to everyone who has supported this story! See Y'all Soon!


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